UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


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Choice  Humor 

FOR    READING 
AND   RECITATION 


COMPILED  Br 

Charles    C.   Shoemaker 


PHILADELPH lA 

The   Penn    Publishing    Company 

1926 


-49256 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  ConKress,  in  the  year  1886,  by 

3BE  NATIONAL  SCHOOL  OF  ELOCUTION  AND  ORATORY. 

in  the  Office  of  the  liibrarian  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C. 


Copyright  1914  by  Chaeles  C.  Shoemaker 


e 


PREFACE. 


«5  A  volume  of  humorous  selections  needs  no  introduc- 

(o      tion.    Its  title  is  sufficient  to  secure  its  Avelcome.    Every 

one  enjoys  humor.     No   part  of  a  newspaper  is  more 

frequently  read  than  the  "  Funny  Colunm."     The  wise 

and  learned  enjoy  it  as  much  as  the  young  and  gay. 

In  the  preparation  of  such  a  volume  we  experience 

jO      no  ordinary  difficulty  in  ])rocuring  selections  that  arc 

■^      really  fresh  and  new.     To   secure   this   end  we  have 

'      spared  no  pains  in  gathering  such  material  as  has  not 

^      become  flat  and  threadbare  through  incessant  repeti- 

^     tion. 

^          We  have  also  endeavored  to  guard  against  the  intro- 

»      duction  of  anything  coarse  and  unrefined,  and  while 

we  have  striven  to  provide  for  a  wide  variety  of  indi- 

'i     vidual  preferences,  we  trust  nothing  will  be  found  in 

"^     these  pages  to  offend  the  purest  and  most  cultivated 

•^     tastes. 

We  desire  to  acknowledge  our  indebtedness  to  the 
public  for  the  generous  welcome  accorded  our  picviou.s 
publications,  and  especialK  to  the  kind  fiiends  who 
have  contributed  to  the  present  volume  eitlier  original 
or  selected  articles. 

The    PlTBLISHERfl. 

ii.i 


ft 


CONTENTS. 

waft 

&gDe8, 1  liove  The« IJA 

Amateur  Flute-Player,  The 29 

Arathusas  Toiuicut 27 

An  and  Nature 97 

At  the  })lasquei'ade 21 

Back  Whc-re  TUey  L'seU  to  B<s Jamen  Whitcomb  Bileif     ...       .83 

Boalhig  a  LkjnJuctor bt'roU  Free  fim 23 

Boneath  Her  Winilow ,  152 

Boy's  Story,  The E.  E.Hioc/urJ 51 

Boy  and  the  Frog.  The 149 

Brudder  (!ardii»r  ou  iVtusic 108 

Burdock's  Music-BuX 133 

Bnrglar  Alarm,  The Birch  Arnold 122 

Candor    7 

<3on8>jlation  Even  ou  a  Mixed  Train      .   .  Travelers'  Mugtizine 81 

Daniel  in  the  Lions'   l>ou E.  E.  Ten  £yck 115 

l>er  Dog  und  der  Lobbter 3C 

Dot  Leedle  Loweeza CharUs  F.  Adams 74 

Dnel  between  Mr.  Shott  and  Mr.  Xott.The    liarjter's  Weekli/ 98 

Engaged 63 

Etbiopiomania Henrg  T^rrAl 138 

Experience  with  a  Kefractory  Cow V5 

Farmer  «tebbi  119 on  Hollers WiU  CMletua 46 

Flrut  Adventures  iu  Euglaml 137 

Floo^  and  the  Ark,  The 41 

I'ourth  of  July  in  Jone<iTille 8 

Getting  Letters 85 

Gi     of  the  Period,  A 164 

Happy  Love BiirUii'jtf,H  lla.vktije 19 

Her  No IT 

Her  Lover* liackelor  Ben 80 

HiaSipn     112 

Uoffeiutein's  Hugle     Xew  OrUuiis  Timet-Democrat    .  .  17 

Boneet  Deacon,  The 106 

How  Jimmy  Tended  the  Baby 172 

Bow  Hid  Garmenu  Cot  Turned 18* 

Idyl  of  the  Period,  An Gearcie  A.  fij/.vr 13C 

lri*hman'8  Panurama,  The Jamef  BurdeUe 13» 

J«>alou«y  in  ti»e  Choir Loweli  .Wein  Moon 78 

Katay's  Letter ...  Ladg  huffeiin U 

'  QuMtlou,  Th8 81 


Ctiuti.*  Hamgtv 


tu 


IV  CONTENTS. 

Lesson  In  Tennis,  A C.  F.  Coburn .  113 

Lightning-Hod  DispPDser,  The Wtll  Carleton 159 

Loiul  on  liU  Mind,  The BurUnr/toa  Haivheye     ......  38 

Love's  Seasons Frank  DoiqiiUer  S.iervum    ....  100 

Low  at  the  Seaside 143 

Man  Who  Apologized,  The Detroit  Free  Press  ........  1-16 

Medley,  A Arranged  by  Elizahctn  M.  Irving  .  102 

Minister's  Grievanc(.'s,"i'l!e Max  Adder 61 

Miss  Slineiva's  Disaiipoinunent Miss  E.  2'.  Corlett 168 

Miss  Simmon's  New  Bomidt Laurie  A.  Jiai/mond 168 

Modern  Wedding  Kites 20 

Mrs.  Middleiib's  IxJtter Burlington HawJ:ei/e 65 

My  Rival Be/isie  Chandler 109 

Naughty  Creok  Gill.  The 141 

Nickeidcmus  Quadrille Texas  S\flings 87 

Parent  with  the  Hoof,  The 120 

Pat's  Letter 91 

Pat's  Reason BrooJcli/n  Etgle ,    .   .  82 

Personal Oiicago  Tribune  .....,.,  40 

Pharisee  and  Sadducee 171 

Photographs,  The 153 

Polonius  to  Laertes — "  I?eaowed  " 70 

Pointer's  Dyspeptic  Coat Von  Boyle 89 

Poet-Tree H.  C.  Dodge ...  90 

Proposal,  A Puch '.iS 

<iuartof  Milk,  A Emma  Dwming  Banl:8 ^8 

School-Day,  A Will  F.  McSpnrraii 72 

She  Eeferred  Ilim  to  Her  Pa Somerville  Journal 150 

Similar  Case,  A 121 

Bpoopendyke  t^tops  f~nioking Brooklyn  Eagle 66 

Theology  in  the  Quarters The  Century 99 

Three  Lovers,  The 174 

Timothy  Itoolau's  AMU lOS 

Time's  Revenge 1<?T 

Time  Tur:?.s  the  Tables J'.l 

Tom  Sawyor  Treated  for  Lovesickiiesa  .   .  3IarJe  Twain iZ 

Trialsof  a  Schoolmistress,  The .V.  Y.  Hun 50 

IJmbrelliv  on  the  Beach,  The Harper''s  Bazar 32 

Uncle  Tom  and  the  Hornets Detroit  Free  Pi-ess 105 

Uncle  Ceph;is'  Yarn Century  Magazine 151 

■Victim  of  Charity,  A .  8S 

What  the    Choir   Sang  About  the   l\ew 

Bonnet M.  T.  Morrison ,  6» 

Why  H«  'Waited  to  Viaugh Detroit  F,ee  Preat     .......  TO 

WoBiaii's  "  No,"  A...........  Arthur  Orahan    ....        ...  iSt 


CHOICE  HUMOR 


FOR 


READING  AND   RECITATION. 


CANDOR. 


"T  KNOW  what  you're  going  to  say,"  she  said, 
-L     And  she  stood  up,  looking  uucommouly  tali ; 
"  You  are  going  to  speak  of  the  hectic  fail. 
And  say  you're  soi'ry  tlie  summer's  dead, 
And  no  other  summer  was  like  it,  you  know. 
And  I  can  imagine  what  made  it  so. 
Now  aren't  you,  honestly  ?"     "  Yes,"  I  said. 

"  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say,"  she  said ; 

"  You're  going  to  ask  if  I  forget 

That  day  in  June  when  the  woods  were  wet. 

And  you  carried  me  " —  here  she  dropped  her  head-*** 

"  Over  the  creek  ;  you  are  going  to  say, 

Do  I  remember  that  horrid  day  ? 

Now  aren't  you,  honestly  ?"     "  Yes,"  I  said. 

"  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say,"  she  said  ; 

"  You  are  going  to  say  that  since  that  time 

You  have  rather  tended  to  run  to  rhyme. 

And  " — her  clear  glance  fell,  and  lier  cheek  grew  red- 

"  And  have  I  noticed  your  tone  was  queer, 

Why,  everybody  has  seen  it  here ! 

How  aren't  you,  honestly  ?"    "  Yes,"  I  said. 


FOURTH   OF   JULY    IN   JONESVILLE. 

"  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say,"  I  said ; 

"  You  are  going  to  say  you've  been  much  annoyed* 

And  I'm  short  of  tact — you  will  say  devoid — 

And  I'm  clumsy,  and  awkward,  raid  call  me  Ted, 

And  I'll  bear  abuse  like  a  dear  old  lamb, 

And  you'll  have  me,  anyway,  just  as  I  am. 

Now  aren't  you,  honestly  T'     "  Ye — es,"  she  said. 


FOURTH  OF  JULY  IN  JONESVILLE 


rilllE  celebration  was  held  in  Josiah's  sugar  bush,  a,\A 
JL  I  meant  to  be  on  the  ground  in  good  season,  for 
when  I  have  jobs  I  dread,  I  am  for  takin'  'em  by  the 
forelock  and  grapplin'  with  'em  at  once.  But  as  I  was 
bakin'  my  last  plum  puddin'  and  chicken  pie,  the  folks 
begun  to  stream  by,  I  hadn't  no  idee  thier  could  be  so 
many  folks  scairt  up  in  Jonesville.  I  thought  to  myself, 
I  wonder  if  they'd  flock  out  so  to  a  prayer-meetin.'  But 
they  kep'  a  comin',  all  kind  of  folks,  in  all  kinds  of  ve« 
hides,  from  a  six-horse  team,  down  to  peacible  lookin' 
men  and  wimmen,  drawin'  baby  wagons,  with  two 
babies  in  most  of  'em. 

There  was  a  stagin'  built  in  most  the  middle  of  the 
grove  for  the  leadin'  men  of  Jonesville,  and  some 
board  seats  all  round  it  for  the  folks  to  set  on.  As 
Josiah  owned  the  ground,  he  was  invited  to  set  upon  the 
stagin'. 

And  as  I  glanced  up  at  that  man  every  little  while 
through  the  day,  I  thought  proudly  to  myself,  there 
may  be  nobler  lookin'  men  there,  and  men  that  would 


FOURTH  OF  JULY  IN  JONESVILLE.         ? 

weigh  more  by  the  steelyards,  but  there  haint  a  whiter 
shirt  bosom  there  than  Josiali  Alien's. 

When  I  got  there  the  seats  was  full.  Betsey  Bobbet 
was  jest  ahead  of  me,  and  says  she : 

"  Come  on,  Josiah  Allen's  wife,  let  us  have  a  seat,  we 
can  obtain  one,  if  we  push  and  scramble  enough."  As 
I  looked  upon  her  carryiu'  out  her  doctrine,  pushin' 
and  scramblin',  I  thought  to  myself,  if  I  didn't  know  to 
the  contrary,  I  never  should  take  you  for  a  modest  dig- 
nifier  and  retirer.  And  as  1  beheld  her  breathin'  hard, 
and  her  elboes  wildly  wavin'  in  the  air,  pushin'  in  be- 
tween native  men  of  Jonesville  and  foreigners,  I  again 
methought,  I  don't  believe  you  would  be  so  sweaty  and 
out  of  breath  a  votin'  as  you  be  now.  And  as  I 
watched  her  labors  and  efforts  I  continued  to  methink 
sadly,  how  strange  !  how  strange  !  that  retiriu'  modesty 
and  delicacy  can  stand  so  firm  in  some  situations,  and 
then  be  so  quickly  overthrowed  in  others  seemin'ly  not 
near  so  hard. 

Betsey  finally  got  a  seat,  wedged  in  between  a  large 
healthy  Irishman  and  a  native  constable,  and  sho 
motioned  for  me  to  come  on,  at  the  same  time  pokin' 
H  respectable  old  gentleman  in  front  of  her  with  hei 
parasol,  to  make  him  move  along.     Says  I : 

"  I  may  as  well  die  one  way  as  another,  as  well  ex^ 
pier  a  standin'  up,  as  in  tryin'  to  get  a  seat,"  and  I 
quietly  leaned  up  against  a  hemlock  tree  and  composed 
myself  for  events.  A  man  heard  my  words,  which  I 
spoke  about  half  to  myself,  and  says  he: 

"  Take  my  seat,  mum." 

Says  I, "  No  !  keep  it." 

Says  he,  "  I  am  jest  comin'  down  with  a  fit,  I  have  got 
Vj  leave  the  gruund  instantly." 


10  FOURTH   OF  JULY   IN    JONESVILLE. 

Says  I,  "In  tliera  cases  1  will."  So  I  sot.  His 
tongue  seemed  thick,  and  his  breath  smelt  of  brandy, 
but  I  make  no  insiuuatious. 

About  noon,  Prof.  Aspire  Todd  walked  slowly  on  to 
the  ground,  arm  in  arm  with  the  editer  of  the  Gimlet, 
old  Mr.  Bobbet  follerin'  him  closely  behind.  Countin' 
two  eyes  to  a  person,  and  the  exceptions  are  triflin', 
there  was  seven  hundred  and  iifty  or  sixty  eyes  aimed  at 
him,  as  he  walked  through  the  crowd.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  new  shiniu'  suit  of  black,  his  complexion  was 
deathly,  his  hair  was  jest  turned  from  white,  and  was 
combed  straight  back  from  his  forward  and  hung  down 
long,  over  his  coat  coller.  He  had  a  big  moustache, 
about  the  color  of  his  hair,  only  bearin'  a  little  more  on 
the  sandy,  and  a  couple  of  pale  blue  eyes,  vrith  a  pair 
of  spectacles  over  'em. 

As  he  walked  upon  the  stagin'  behind  the  Editer  of 
the  Gimlet,  the  band  struck  up  "  Hail  to  the  Chief  that 
in  Trihump  Advances."  As  soon  as  it  stopped  playin', 
the  Editer  of  the  Gimlet  come  forward  and  said  : 

"  Fellow-citizens  of  Jonesville  and  the  adjacent  and 
sun-oundin'  world,  I  have  the  honor  and  privilege  of 
presenting  to  you  the  orator  of  the  day,  the  noble  and 
eloquent  Prof.  Aspire  Todd,  Esq." 

Prof  Todd  came  forward  and  made  a  low  bow. 

"*  Bretheren  and  sistei-s  of  Jonesville,"  says  he, 
"  Friends  and  patrons  of  Liberty,  in  risin'  upon  this 
aeroter,  I  have  signified  by  that  act  a  desire  and  a  wil- 
lingness to  address  you.  I  am  not  here,  fellow  and  sis- 
ter citizens,  to  outrage  your  feelings  by  triflin'  remarks, 
I  am  not  here,  male  patrons  of  liberty,  to  lead  your 
noble,  and  you,  female  patrons,  your  tender  footsteps 
Into  the  flowery  fields  of  useless  rhetorical  eloquence ;  I 


FOURTH  OF  JULY  IN  JONESVILLK.        II 

«m  here,  noble  brothers  and  sistei"s  of  Jones ville,  not  ia 
a  mephitical  manner,  and,  1  trust,  not  in  a  mentorial, 
but  to  present  a  few  plain  truths  in  a  plain  manner  for 
your  consideration.  My  friends,  we  are  in  one  sense 
but  tennifolious  blossoms  of  life ;  or,  if  you  will  pardon 
the  tergiversation,  we  are  all  but  mineratin'  tennirosters 
hovering  upon  an  illinition  of  mythoplasm." 

"  Jess  so,"  cried  old  Bobbet,  who  was  settin'  on  a 
bench  right  under  the  speaker's  stand,  with  his  fat,  red 
face  lookin'  up  shinin'  with  pride  and  enthusiasm  (and 
the  brandy  he  had  took  to  honor  the  old  Revolutionary 
heroes),  "jess  so  !  so  we  be  !" 

Prof.  Todd  looked  down  on  him  in  a  troubled  kind  of 
a  way  for  a  minute,  and  then  went  on — 

"  Noble  inhabitants  of  Jonesville  and  the  rural  dis- 
tricts, we  are  actinolitic  beins',  each  of  our  souls,  like 
the  acalphia,  radiates  a  circle  of  prismatic  tentacles, 
showing  the  divine  irridescent  essence  of  which  com- 
posed are  they." 

"  Jes'  so,"  shouted  old  Bobbet,  louder  than  before. 
•'  Jes'  so,  so  they  did,  I've  always  said  so." 

"  And  if  we  are  content  to  molder  out  our  existence, 
like  fibrous,  veticulated,  polypus,  clingin'  to  the  crusta- 
ceous  courts  of  custom,  if  we  cling  not  like  soarin'  pry« 
tanes  to  the  phantoms  that  lower  thier  sceptres  down 
through  the  murky  waves  of  retrogression,  endeiw- 
orin'  to  lure  us  upward  in  the  scale  of  progressive  bein* 
— in  what  degree  do  we  differ  fi-om  the  accolphia  ?" 

"  Jes'  so,"  says,  old  Bobbet,  lookin'  defiantly  round  on 
4he  audience.     "  There  he  has  got  you,  how  can  they  ?" 

Prof.  Todd  stopped  again,  looked  doun  on  Bobbet, 
and  put  his  hand  to  his  brow  in  &  wild  kind  of  a  way 
^r  a  minute,  and  then  went  on — 


12        FOUKTH  OF  JULY  IN  JONESVILLK. 

"  Let  us,  noble  brethren  in  the  broad  field  of  human* 
ity,  let  us  rise,  let  us  prove  that  mind  is  superior  to  mat* 
ter,  let  us  prove  ourselves  superior  to  the  acalphia — " 

"  Yes,  less,"  says  old  Bobbet,  "  less  prove  ourselves." 

"  Let  us  shame  the  actinia,"  said  the  Professor. 

"  Yes,  jes'  so !"  shouted  old  Bobbet, "  less  shame  him  !" 
And  in  his  enthusiasm  he  got  up  and  hollered  agin, 
"  Less  shame  him." 

Prof.  Todd  stopped  stone  still,  his  face  red  as  blood, 
he  drinked  several  swallows  of  water,  and  then  he 
whispered  a  few  words  to  the  Editer  of  the  Gimlet, 
who  immegiately  come  forward,  and  said  : 

"  Although  it  is  a  scene  of  touchin'  beauty  to  see  an 
old  gentleman,  and  a  bald-headed  one,  so  in  love  with 
eloquence,  and  to  give  such  remarkable  proofs  of  it  at 
his  age,  still  as  it  is  the  request  of  my  young  friend— 
and  I  am  proud  to  say, '  my  young  friend,'  in  regard  to 
one  gifted  in  so  remarkable  a  degree — at  his  request  I 
beg  to  be  permitted  to  hint  that  if  the  bald-headed  old 
gentleman  in  the  linen  coat  can  conceal  his  admiration 
and  suppress  his  applause,  he  will  confer  a  favor  on  my 
gifted  young  friend,  and  through  him  indirectly  to 
Jonesville,  to  America,  and  the  great  cause  of  humanity 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  country." 

Here  he  made  a  low  bow  and  sot  down.  Prof;  Todd 
continued  his  piece  without  any  more  interruption,  till 
most  the  last,  he  wanted  the  public  of  Jonesville  to 
"  dround  black  care  in  the  deep  waters  of  oblivion, 
mind  not  her  mad  throes  of  dissolvin'  bein',  but  let  the 
deep  watei-s  cover  her  black  head,  and  march  onward." 

Then  the  old  gentleman  forgot  himself,  and  sprung 
up  and  hollered — 

"  Yes !  dround  the  black  cat ;  hold  her  head  under ! 


FOURTH   OF   JULY   IX   JOKESVILLE.  lb 

Wiiat  if  slie  is  mad  I  Don't  mind  lier  screamin' !  There 
will  be  cats  enough  left  in  the  world !  Do  as  he  tells 
you  to  !  Less  dround  her  I" 

Prof.  Todd  finished  in  a  few  words,  and  set  doun, 
lookin'  gloomy  and  morbid. 

The  next  speaker  was  a  large,  healthy-lookin'  man, 
'itho  talked  against  wimmin's  rights.  He  didn't  bring 
up  no  new  arguments,  but  talked  as  they  all  do  who  op- 
pose 'em.  About  wimmin  outragin'  and  destroyin' 
thiei  modesty  by  bein'  iu  the  same  street  with  a  man 
once  every  'lection  day.  And  he  talked  grand  about 
how  woman's  weakness  arroused  all  the  shivelry  and  no- 
bility of  man's  nature,  and  how  it  was  his  dearest  and 
most  sacred  privilege  and  happiness  to  protect  her  from 
even  a  summer's  breeze,  if  it  dared  to  blow  too  hard  on 
her  beloved  and  delicate  form. 

Why,  before  he  had  got  half  through,  a  stranger 
from  another  world,  who  had  never  seen  a  woman, 
wouldn't  have  had  the  least  idee  that  they  was  made  of 
clay,  as  man  was,  but  would  have  thought  they  was 
made  of  some  thin  gauze,  liable  at  any  minute  to  blow 
away,  and  that  man's  only  employment  was  to  stand 
and  watch  'em,  for  fear  some  zephyr  would  get  the  ad- 
vantage of  'em.  He  called  wdmmiu  every  pretty  name 
he  could  think  of,  and,  says  he,  wavin'  his  hands  in  the 
air  in  a  rapped  eloquence,  and  beatin'  his  breast  in  the 
same,  he  cried  : 

"  Shall  these  weak,  helpless  angels,  these  seraphines, 
these  sweet,  delicate,  cooin'  doves — whose  only  mission 
it  is  to  sweetly  coo — these  rainbows,  these  posys  vote? 
Never !  my  bretheren,  never  will  we  put  such  hardships 
upon  'em." 

As  he  sot  down  he  professed  himself  and  all  the  rert 


14  FOURTH   OF   JULY   IN   JONESVILLE. 

of  his  sect  ready  to  die  at  any  time,  and  in  any  way 
wiramin  should  say,  rather  than  they  should  vote,  or 
have  any  other  hardship.  Betsey  Bobbet  wept  aloud, 
she  was  so  delighted  with  it. 

Lawyer  Nugent  now  got  up  aud  said  :  "  That,  where- 
as tlic  speakiitg  was  foreclosed,  or,  in  other  words,  fin- 
ished, he  motioned  they  should  adjourn  to  the  dinner- 
table,  as  the  fair  committee  liad  signified  by  a  snowy 
signal  that  fluttered  like  a  dove  of  promise  above 
waves  of  emerald,  or,  in  plainer  terms,  by  a  towel,  that 
dinner  was  forthcoming;  whereas  he  motioned  that 
they  should  adjourn  sine  die  to  the  aforesaid  table." 

Old  Mr.  Bobbet,  and  the  Editer  of  the  Gimlet  sec^ 
onded  the  motion  at  the  same  time.  And  Shakespeare 
Bobbet,  wantin'  to  do  somethin'  in  a  public  way,  got  up 
and  motioned  "  that  they  proceed  to  the  table  on  the 
usial  road,"  but  there  wavsn't  any  other  way — only  to 
wade  the  creek — that  didn't  seem  to  be  necessary,  but 
nobody  took  no  notice  of  it,  so  it  was  jest  as  well. 

The  dinner  was  good,  but  there  was  an  awfiil  crowd 
round  the  tables,  and  I  was  glad  I  wore  my  old  lawn 
dress,  for  the  children  was  thick,  and  so  was  bread  and 
butter,  and  sass  of  all  kinds,  and  jell  tarts.  And  I 
hain't  no  shirk,  I  jest  plunged  right  into  the  heat  of  the 
battle,  as  you  may  say,  waitin'  on  the  children,  and  the 
spots  on  my  dress  skirt  would  have  been  too  much  for 
anybody  that  couldn't  count  forty.  To  say  nothin' 
about  old  Mr.  Peedick  steppin'  through  the  back 
breadth,  and  Betsey  Bobbet  ketchin'  holt  of  me  and 
rippin'  it  oft*  the  waist  as  much  as  half  a  yard.  And 
then  a  horse  started  up  behind  the  widder  Tubbs,  as  I 
was  bendin'  down  in  front  of  her  to  get  somethin'  out  of 
a  basket;  and  she,  weighin'  above  two  hundred,  waB  pre* 


FOURTH  OF  JULY  IN  JONESVILLE.       li 

eipitated  onto  my  straw  bonnet,  jammin'  it  clo^vn  almost 
as  flat  as  it  was  before  it  was  braided.  1  came  off 
pretty  well  in  other  respects,  only  about  two  yards  of 
the  rufiin'  of  my  black  silk  cape  was  tore  by  two  boys 
who  got  to  fightin'  behind  me,  and  bein'  blind  with 
rage,  tore  it  off,  thinkin'  they  had  got  holt  of  each 
other's  hair.  There  was  a  considerable  number  of 
toasts  drank ;  I  can't  remember  all  of  'em,  but  among 
'em  was  these  : 

"  The  eagle  of  Liberty ;  may  her  quills  lengthen  till 
the  proud  shadow  of  her  wings  shall  sweetly  rest  on 
every  land." 

"The  Fourth  of  July;  the  star  which  our  old  four 
fathers  tore  from  the  ferocious  mane  of  the  howling  lion 
of  England,  and  set  in  the  calm  and  majestic  brow  of 
E  pluribus  unum.  May  it  gleam  with  brighter  and 
brighter  radiance,  till  the  lion  shall  hide  his  dazzled 
eyes,  and  cower,  like  a  stricken  lamb  at  the  feet  of  E 
pluribus." 

"  Dr.  Bombus,  our  respected  citizen  ;  how  he  tenderly 
ushers  us  into  a  world  of  trial,  and  professionally  and 
scientifically  assists  us  out  of  it.  May  his  troubles  be 
as  small  as  his  morphine  powders,  and  the  circle  of  his 
joys  as  well  rounded  as  his  pills." 

"  The  Press  of  Jonesville,  the  Gimlet,  and  the  Augur ; 
may  they  perforate  the  crust  of  ignorance  with  a  gigan- 
tic hole,  through  which  blushing  civilization  can  sweetly 
peer  into  futurity." 

"  The  Fair  Sect :  Fii-st  in  war,  firet  in  peace,  and  first 
in  the  hearts  of  their  countrymen.  May  them  that 
love  the  aforesaid  flourish  like  a  green  bayberry  tree, 
•whereas  may  them  that  hate  them,  dwiudlo  down  a» 
near  to  nothiu'  as  the  bonnets  of  the  afoiv«aid. " 


I(j  FOURTH   OF   JUI-Y   IN   JONESVILLB. 

That  peice  of  toast  was  Lawer  Nugent's. 

Prof.  Aspire  Todd's  was  the  last. 

"  The  Lumiucus  Lamp  of  Progression,  whose  sciather- 
cal  shadows,  falling  upon  earthly  matter,  not  promoting 
sciolism,  or  Siccity,  may  it  illumine  humanity  ag  it  tar- 
digradely  Hoats  from  matter's  aquius  wastes,  to  minds 
majestic  and  a{)yrous  climes." 

Shakespeare  Bobbet  then  rose  up,  and  says  he  : 

"  Before  we  leave  this  joyous  grove,  I  have  a  poem 
which  I  was  requested  to  read  to  you ;  it  is  dedicated  to 
the  Goddess  of  Liberty,  and  was  transposed  by  another 
female,  who  modefttly  desires  her  name  not  to  be  men- 
tioned any  further  than  the  initials,  B.  B." 

He  then  read  tlie  follerin'  spirited  lines: 

"  Before  a,/l  causes  East  or  West, 
I  love  tne  Liberty  cause  the  best, 
I  love  iis  cheerful  greetings  ; 
No  joys  on  earth  can  e'er  be  found, 
Like  tliose  pure  pleasures  that  abound, 
At  Jonewville  Liberty  meetings. 

"  To  all  th<j  world  I  give  my  hand. 
My  heart  is  with  that  noble  band, 
The  .Jonesville  Liberty  Brothers ; 
May  every  land  preserved  be, 
Each  clime  that  dotes  on  Liberty — 
JonesviWe  before  all  others." 

The  picknick  nevtr  broke  up  till  most  night ;  I  went 
home  a  little  while  before  it  broke,  and  if  there  was  a 
beat  out  creeter,  I  was  ;  I  jest  dropped  my  delapidated 
ft;rm  into  a  rockin'  chair  with  a  red  cushien  and  says  I  : 

"  There  needn't  be  another  word  said,  I  will  never  go 
to  another  Fourth  as  long  as  my  name  is  Josiah  Allen'"* 
wife." 


HOFFENSTEIN's  BfGLK.  1| 

HER  NO. 


"VrO,  Impudence!  you  shan't  have  one' 
■^      How  many  times  must  1  refuse  ? 

Away, 

I  say! 
Or  else  you'll  sure  my  friendship  lose. 
I  cannot  bear  such  forward  fun ! 
So  quick,  begone !    If  not,  I'll  run. 

Why,  now  I'll  have  to  be  severe. 
No,  not  a  kiss  to  you  I'll  give. 

Take  care ! 

Take  care ! 
I'll  tell  papa,  as  sure's  I  live, 
I  never  saw  a  man  so  queer ! 
But — are  you  sure  there's  no  one  near* 


HOFFENSTEIN'S  BUGLR 

"ll  I  R.  HOFFENSTEIN,"  said  Herman,  as  he  f;)ldea 
i*-l  up  a  pair  of  pants,  and  placed  them  on  a  pile, 
"if  you  don't  haf  any  objections  I  vould  like  to  get 
from  de  store  avay  von  efening,  und  go  mit  de  soldiers 
to  de  Spanish  Fort." 

•"  Veil,  Herman,  I  dinks  you  had  better  keep  away 
from  de  soldiers,"  replied  Hoffenstein,  "  und  stay  mit 
de  store,  because,  you  know,  you  don't  can  put  any 
confidence  mit  de  soldiers.  I  vill  dell  you  vy.  Von 
day  vile  I  vas  in  Vicksburg,  during  de  var,  a  cock- 
eyed soldier  came  in  my  store  rait  an  old  iugle  in 
2 


JI8  MOFFEN8TEINS  BUGLE. 

his  hand,  und  he  looks  around.  I  asks  him  vot  ht 
vants,  und  he  buys  a  couple  of  undershirts,  den  he  dells 
me  to  keep  his  bundle  un  de  bugle  behind  de  counter 
until  he  conies  back.  After  de  cockeyed  soldier  vent 
de  store  out,  some  more  soldiers  come  in  und  vak  all 
around,  vile  dey  looks  at  de  goods.  '  Shentlemen,'  I 
says,  '  do  you  vant  anyding?'  '  Ve  are  shust  looking  to 
Bee  vot  you  haf,'  said  one  uf  dem,  und  after  a  vile 
anodder  says :  '  Bill,  shust  look  dere  at  de  bugle,  de 
very  ding  de  captain  told  us  to  get.  You  know  ve 
don't  have  any  bugle  in  our  company  for  dree  months 
How  much  you  ask  for  dat  bugle  ?'  I  dells  dem  dat  I 
can't  sell  de  bugle  because  it  belongs  to  a  man  vot  shust 
vent  out.  '  I  vill  gif  you  fifty  dollars  for  it,'  says  de 
soldier,  pulling  his  money  out.  I  dells  him  I  don't  can 
sell  it  because  it  vasn't  mine,  '  I  vill  give  you  a  hun- 
dred dollars,'  he  said.  My  gr-r-acious,  Herman,  I  vants 
to  sell  de  bugle  so  bad  dat  I  vistles.  De  soldier  dells 
me  vile  dey  vos  leaving  de  store  dat  if  I  buys  de  bugle 
of  de  man  vot  owns  it,  dey  vill  gif  me  one  hundred  und 
dwondy-five  dollars  for  it.  I  dell  dem  I  vill  do  it.  I 
Bees  a  chance,  you  know,  Herman,  to  make  some  money 
by  de  oberation.  Ven  de  cockeyed  soldier  comes  back 
he  says, '  Git  me  my  bundle  und  bugle,  I  got  to  go  to  d% 
camp.'  I  says, '  My  frent,  don't  you  vant  to  sell  your 
bugle  ?'  He  dells  me  no,  und  I  says,  *  My  little  boy, 
Leopold,  vot  plays  in  de  store,  sees  de  bugle  und  he 
goes  all  around  crying  shust  as  loud  as  he  can,  because 
he  don't  get  it.  Six  times  I  takes  him  in  de  back  yard 
und  vips  him,  und  he  comes  right  back  und  cries  for  de 
bugle.  It  shows,  you  know,  how  much  drouble  a  man 
rill  haf  mit  a  family.  I  vill  gif  you  den  dollars  for  it 
shust  to  please  little  Leopold/     De  soldier  von't  take  it 


H4FPT    LOTE-  1* 

tincl  at  last  I  offers  him  fifty  doUai-s,  und  he  says,  *  Veil, 
I  vill  dake  fifty  dollars,  because  1  cant  vaste  any  more 
time,  I  haf  to  go  to  de  camp.'  After  be  had  gone  avay 
I  ffoes  to  de  door  und  vatches  for  de  soldiers  vat  vanted 
de  bugle.  I  sees  dem  passing  along  de  street,  und  I 
fays,  '  ]My  frents,  I  haf  got  de  bugle,'  und  dey  say, 
■  Veil,  then,  vy  don't  you  blow  it  ?'  My  gr-r-acious, 
Herman,  vat  you  dink?  All  dem  soldiers  belong  to  dc 
game  crowd,  und  dey  make  de  trick  to  svrindle  me.  Levi 
Cohen,  across  de  street,  he  finds  it  out,  und  efer}^  day  he 
gets  boys  to  blow  horns  in  front  of  my  store,  so  as  to  make 
me  dink  I  vas  svindled.  Herman,  I  dink  you  had  bet- 
ter stay  mit  de  store." — New  Orleans  Tivice-Denwcrat, 


HAPPY  LOVE- 


W'HILE  they  sat  before  the  fire, 
Nothhig  more  did  he  desire, 
Than  to  get  a  little  nighor. 

If  he  could ; 
And  his  heart  beat  high  and  higher, 
And  her  look  grew  shy  and  shyer, 
When  he  sidled  up  close  by  her, 
As  he  should. 

Then  he  ventured  to  inquire 
If  her  sister,  Jane  ^Nlariar, 
And  her  ?nother  and  her  sire, 

Were  quite  well. 
And  from  time  to  time  he'd  eye  her, 
As  though  he  would  like  to  buy  her. 
And  his  bashfulneps  wa.s  dire, 

For  a  epell 


20  MODERN    WEDDING    RITES. 

Then  his  husky  throat  grew  dryer 
When  he  told  her  that  the  'Squire 
To  himself  would  gladly  tie  her 

If  she  would ; 
Might  he  now  go  ask  her  sire  ? 
And  he  thought  he  would  expire, 
When  she  said,  to  his  desire, 

That  he  could  ! 

— Burlington  Hawkeye. 

MODERN  WEDDING   RITES. 


"TTTILT  thou  take  this  brown  stone  front, 

»  »       These  carriages,  this  diamond, 
To  be  the  husbard  of  thy  choice. 

Fast  locked  in  the  bonds  of  Hymen  ? 
And  wilt  thou  leave  thy  home  and  friends 

To  be  his  loving  wife. 
And  help  to  spend  his  large  income 

So  long  as  thou  hast  life  ?" 

"  I  will !"  the  modest  maid  replies. 
The  love-light  beaming  from  her  eyes. 

"  And  wilt  thou  take  this  water-fall, 

This  ostentatious  pride. 
With  all  these  unpaid  milliner's  bills, 

To  be  thy  chosen  bride  ? 
And  wilt  thou  love  and  cherish  her 

Whilst  thou  hast  life  and  health, 
But  die  as  soon  as  possible 

And  leave  her  all  thy  wealth  ?" 

"  I  will !"  the  fearless  mate  replies. 
And  eager  waits  the  nuptial  ties. 


AT   THE   MASQUERADE.  21 

Then  I  pronounce  you  man  and  wife ; 

And  wliat  I've  joined  forever 
The  next  best  man  may  disunite, 

And  the  first  divorce-court  sever. 


AT  THE  MASQUERADE. 


I  KNOW  'twas  not  the  proj^er  thing  to  do, 
And  yet  I  thought  it  would  be  jolly  too. 
To  go  alone  to  that  swell  masquerade, 
And  so  I  did  it.     Well  my  plans  were  laid. 
My  wife  of  my  intentions  naught  did  know. 
I  told  her,  out  of  town  I  had  to  go. 
And  she  believed  me.     Leaving  her  to  stay 
At  home,  I  went  and  danced  in  costume  gay. 
I  had  been  at  the  ball  an  hour  or  so, 
When  some  one  introduced  a  domino. 
1  saw  that  she  was  ])lunip  and  graceful,  and 
She  had  a  pretty  little  foot  and  hand. 
Her  eyes,  I  noticed,  flashed  like  diamonds  bright. 
Though  plump,  she  waltzed  divinely  ;  feather  light, 
And  then  she  flirted  with  most  perfect  art, 
It  isn't  singular  I  lost  my  heart. 
Soon  my  sweet  charmer  I  began  to  ask 
To  step  into  an  alcove  and  unmask  : 
To  let  me  see  the  lovely  face  I'd  swear 
Wits  hid  behind  that  mask.     My  lady  fair 
At  first  refused.     1  plciidcnl  long  and  hard  ; 
Declared  my  life  forever  would  be  marred. 
Unless  her  cruelty  she  would  relent. 
My  pleading  won,  at  laat,  a  shy  consent. 


22  THE   AMATEUK    FLUTE-PLAYEE. 

Her  face  .^hc  would  permit  luy  eyes  to  view. 

If  I  Miimaske*.],  the  seJtsaiuc  instant,  too. 

The  dancing-hall  had  alcoves  all  around, 

And  soon  in  one  of  tliese  ourselves  we  found ; 

The  alcove  was,  for  two,  the  proper  size. 

And  passing  dancers  would  not  recognize 

You,  for  the  light  was  dim  within  the  niche. 

And  flowers,  about,  tlieir  perfume  gave.     My  witch 

Her  mask  removed.     I  meantime  did  the  same. 

"  My  wife !"     "  My  husband !"     So  we  did  exclaim. 

The  truth  we  neither  of  us  had  mistrusted, 

And  each  was  disappointed  and  disgusted. 


THE  AMATEUR  FLUTE-PLAYER. 


TT^ 


"EAR  the  fluter  with  his  flute, 
Silver  flute ! 

Ov^  what  a  world  of  wailing  is  awakened  by  its  toot  I 
How  it  demi-semi-quavers, 

On  the  maddened  air  of  night ! 
And  defieth  all  endeavors 

To  escape  the  sound  or  sight 
Of  the  flute,  flute,  flute. 
With  its  tootle,  tootle,  toot. 
With  reiterated  tootings  of  exasperated  toots. 
The  long-protracted  tootings  of  agonizing  toots, 
Of  the  flute,  flute,  flute,  flute, 
Flute,  flute,  flute. 
And  ths  wheezing  and  the  spittings  of  its  toots. 

Should  he  get  that  other  flute — 
Golden  flute — 
Oh,  what  a  deeper  anguish  will  its  presence  iustitoot ! 


SEATING    A   CONDUCri'OR,  M 

How  hi?  eyes  to  lieaveu  he'll  raise 
At-  he  piays 
Ail  the  days ! 
How  he'll  stop  us  on  our  ways 

With  its  praise ; 
Aud  the  people — oh,  the  people ! 
That  don't  live  up  in  the  steeple, 
But  inhabit  Christian  parloi-s 
Where  he  visiteth  and  plays — 
Where  he  plays,  plays,  plays 
In  the  cruelest  of  ways. 
And  th^nl^  s  we  ought  to  listen, 
Aud  expects  us  to  be  mute, 
Who  would  rather  have  the  earache 
Than  the  music  of  his  flute— 
Of  his  flute,  flute,  flute, 
And  the  tooting  of  his  toot— > 
Of  the  toot  wherein  he  tooteleth  his  agonizing  toot 
Of  the  fluet,  fluit,  floot, 
Phlute,  phlewt,  phlewglit. 
And  the  tootle-tootle-tooting  of  his  took 


BEATING  A   CONDUCTOR. 


A  PASSENGER  going  West  from  Detroit  by  rail, 
the  other  day,  had  a  puss  to  Chicago.  When  the 
conductor  took  it  up  he  asked  several  questions  to  sat- 
ifify  himself  that  the  pass  had  not  been  transferred,  and 
the  holder  of  the  pasteboard  didn't  take  it  as  good- 
naturedly  as  some  men  would.  He  didn't  have  much 
to  say,  but  he  was  determined  on  revenge.  As  soon  aa 
the  conductor  left  the  car,  the  man  changed  seats,  re- 


14  SEATING  A  CONDUCTOIi, 

moved  his  linen  fluster,  took  off  his  hat,  and  looked 
like  a  different  person  altogetlier.  After  the  train  left 
the  next  station  the  conductor  came  along  with  an  eve 
out  for  new  passengers,  and  presently  reached  out  for 
the  holder  of  the  pass. 

"  I  haven't  got  any  ticket,"  was  the  surly  answer. 

"  Then  you  must  pay  your  fare." 

"  I  won't  do  it." 

"  See  here,"  said  the  conductor,  as  he  began  to  wake 
up,  "  you  must  either  pay  your  fare  or  produce  a  ticket. 
If  not,  I'll  drop  you  on  the  road." 

"  Drop  and  be  hanged  !" 

The  train  was  not  stopped,  but  after  a  run  of  ten 
minutes  it  reached  a  station,  and  arrangements  were 
made  for  bouncing  the  man.  When  all  was  completed 
he  showed  his  pass. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  had  a  pass?"  roared 
the  conductor. 

"  Why  didn't  you  ask  me  ?"  shouted  the  traveler, 

**  Well,  I  don't  like  such  fooling." 

"Nor  I,  either." 

The  train  went  on,  and  the  man  put  on  Iiis  duster, 
traded  hats  with  a  passenger,  and  again  looked  like 
some  one  else.  He  changed  his  seat  to  the  front  end 
i*f  the  car,  and  was  seemingly  sound  asleep  when  the 
conductor  agaiii  had  occasion  to  pass  through.  He 
took  two  fares,  and  then  held  out  his  hand  to  the  trav- 
eler. There  was  no  response.  He  shook  the  sleeper 
gently,  but  the  latter  slept  on.  Then  he  shook  hira 
good  and  stout,  and  called  "  ticket "  in  his  ear. 

"How  dare  you  shake  me  around  in  this  manner?* 
shouted  the  man,  as  he  awoke  and  stood  up^ 

"  Ticket,  please/' 


katey's  letter.  25 

"  But  I  don't  please !  How  dare  you  corae  to  ma 
?very  time  the  train  leaves  a  station  ?" 

The  conductor  looked  down  the  aisle,  thought  he  ^w 
the  man  with  the  pass  in  his  old  seat,  and  said  to  the 
other : 

"  Come,  sir,  don't  bother  me.     I  want  your  ticket." 

"  You  can't  have  it." 

"  Then  I'll  put  you  ofi'!" 

He  reached  for  the  bell-rope,  but  seeing  a  general 
grin  all  around  the  car  he  stopped  and  lookwi  more 
closely  at  the  man,  and  recognized  him  as  the  cne  with 
the  pass.  He  went  out  without  a  word,  and  whrn  he  re- 
turned, half  an  hour  later,  he  expected  anotb-^r  trap. 
He  looked  carefully  over  the  car,  and  was  goin^-^  slowly 
ulong  in  search  of  new  faces,  Avhen  a  man  with  his  coat 
oti"  and  under  the  influence  of  liquor  called  ou*  : 

"  Shay,  Captain,  I  hain't  got  any  ticket !" 

"  Ah,  you  can't  beat  me  again — knew  you  ?«»  soon  as 
I  entered  the  car  !"  chuckled  the  ofticial,  and  .b<i  walked 
An  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face. 

It  was  not  until  he  saw  the  shirt-sleeved  nif  n  get  off 
at  the  next  station  that  he  knew  he  had  been  mistaken 
again,  and  had  let  him  travel  for  nothing,  whHe  the 
man  with  the  pass  was  in  the  smok'mg-c&r.—J^etroil 
Free  I*ress, 


KATEY'S  LETTER. 

OCH,  girls,  did  you  ever  hear, 
I  wrote  my  love  a  letter? 
And  al-tho'  he  cannot  read 
Sure  I  thought  'twaa  all  the  better. 


86  katey's  IvEttbb. 

For  why  s-huuld  lie  be  puzzled 
Wid  hiird  speiiin'  in  the  iiuiticr. 
When  the  inaiieiug  in  ao  plaiue 
That  I  kwe  liim  faithfuiiy  ? 

My  heart  was  full,  but  when  I  wrote 

I  dared  not  put  the  half  in, 
The  neighbors  know  1  love  him. 

And  they're  mighty  fond  of  chaffing. 
So  I  dared  not  write  his  name  outside, 
For  fear  they  Avould  be  laughing. 
So  I  wrote :  "  From  Little  Kate 
To  one  whom  she  loves  faithfully." 

I  wrote  it  and  I  folded  it 

And  put  a  seal  upon  it. 
*Twas  a  seal  almost  as  big 

As  the  crown  of  my  best  bonnet, 
For  I  would  not  have  the  post-master 
Make  his  remarks  upon  it. 
As  I  said  inside  the  letter 
That  I  loved  him  faithfully. 

Now,  girls,  would  you  belave  me, 
That  post-man  so  consaited, 

No  answer  will  he  bring  me, 
So  long  as  I  have  waited. 

But  may-be  there  mayn't  be  one, 

For  the  rason  that  I  stated 

That  my  love  can  neither  read  nor  write 

But  he  loves  me  faithfully. 

Lady  Dufpkrin. 


aEATH  USA'S   TORMENT.  27 


AllATHUSA'S  TOKMENT. 


MY  name's  Jack,  and  I'm  eight  yeai-s  old.  I  got  a 
sister  Aratliusa.  She  calls  me  a  little  torment,  and 
I'll  tell  you  the  reason  why,  Arathusa  is  got  a  beau, 
and  he  comes  to  see  her  every  night ;  and  they  sit  in 
tlie  parlor  back  in  the  corner,  on  the  sofa,  and  Ara- 
thusa, she  turns  the  gas  way,  way  down,  till  you  can't 
hardly  see.  I  like  to  be  in  the  parlor  when  the  gas  is 
on  full  blaze,  and  have  a  good  time,  but  she  skites  me 
out  every  night.  I  cheeked  her  once,  you  better  be- 
lieve. She  went  to  the  door  to  look  out  and  I  crawled 
under  the  sofa.  After  awhile  they  came  in  and  sat 
down  on  the  sofa,  and  it  got  awful  dark;  I  couldn't 
hear  anything  but  kiss,  kiss,  kiss  !  So  I  reached  out  and 
I  pulled  Arathusa's  foot.  She  said,  "  Oh !  mercy, 
what's  that  ?"  And  Alphonso  said,  "  O  Arathusa,  I  do 
love  you  so  much,"  and  she  said,  "  Do  you,  dear?  When 
I  think  of  your  going  away  it  almost  breaks  my  heart  I" 
and  I  snickered  right  out,  I  couldn't  help  it.  And  she 
ran  to  the  door  and  looked  through  tlie  key -hole  and 
said,  "  I  do  believe  that  is  Jack,  nasty  little  torment, 
he  is  always  where  he  ain't  wanted ;  won't  I  slap  him 
when  I  catch  him  I"  And  that  made  me  mad,  and  I 
crawled  right  out  from  under  the  sofa  and  I  stood  up 
before  her  and  I  said,  "  You  think  you're  smart,  don't 
you?  I  guess  I  know  what  you  been  adoin';  you  been 
sittin'  on  Alphonso's  lap  and  a  letting  him  kiss  you, 
like  you  let  Bill  Jones  kiss  you,  and  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself,  ain't  you  ?  I  don't  care,  I'm  mad 
at  you  anyway;  if  it  luidn't  heim  for  buying  that  false 
wig  of  your'n.  Pa  would  a  bought  me  a  velocipede  like 


28  A   QUART   OF   MILR. 

Tom  Clifford'^.  You  needn't  be  a  grinding  them  falft* 
toetli  of  your'u  at  nie,  for  I  ain't  a  going  out  of  here. 
T  ain't  as  green  as  I  h)ok.  I  guess  1  know  a  thing  or 
two.  I  don't  care  if  you  are  twenty-eight  years  old, 
you  ain't  going  to  box  me." 


A  QUART  OF  MILK. 

I  HAVE  ventured  to  put  into  verse, 
An  old  newspaper  paragraph  terse, 
Which  right  good  you  will  find,  if  'tis  old, 
For  a  comical  story  is  told. 

There  once  lived  in  the  famed  town  of  Hull, 
A  rich,  deafened  old  lady  named  Mull, 
And  'tis  said,  in  her  trumpet  of  tin, 
That  some  children  once  peeped,  and  fell  in,— 
But  howe'er  that  might  be,  ttiis  I  know, 
'Twas  full  large,  for  she  ordered  it  so. 

Her  quaint  language  of  pure  Holland  Dutch 
Had  accented  her  English  so  much, 
That  sometimes  you  would  find  it  a  task 
Comprehending  the  questions  she'd  ask. 
She  would  scream  out  a  "  How  do  you  do  ?" 
And  then  level  her  trumpet  at  you. 

The  old  thing  was  so  large  and  so  queer, 
That  you'd  laugh  'stead  of  talk  in  her  ear. 
It  so  happened,  one  fine  summer's  day, 
A  new  milkman  was  passing  her  way  ; 
So  she  quickly  ran  down  to  the  gate, 
Crying,  "  Here,  milky  man,  vait !  vait !  vait  I** 


A   QUART   OF   MILK.  2S 

Now  the  milkman  was  young,  and  I  fear 

That  the  thoughts  of  a  maid  he  held  dear 

Had  possessed  him  with  dreams  strange  and  sweety 

As  he  lazily  druve  down  the  street. 

Absent  minded,  he  paused  near  her  door, 

Only  half  heard  her  resonant  roar  ; 

Only  half  saw  the  gleam  of  the  tin, 
A.S  she  raised  with  a  clatter  and  din 
That  ear  trumpet  so  huge  'neath  his  eyes ; 
[Had  he  seen,  he'd  have  sure  shown  surprise], 
"  Milky  man,"  thus  she  cried,  "  come  more  neat, 
Vat  you  scharge,  milk  a  qvart,  doan't  you  hear  ?" 

Then  she  paused,  with  the  ear  trumpet  nigh. 
To  quick  grumble,  if  price  proved  too  high. 
Hark  ?  a  gurgle — a  splash — and  the  can 
Was  upraised — and  the  milk  ?  oh  !  it  ran 
Full  a  quart  down  that  trumpet  of  tin. 
And  the  Dutch  that  poured  forth  was  a  sin. 

"  Donner  Blixen  !"  she  cried,  "  ach !  mein  ear ; 
Schust  you  vait,  milky  man,"  but  in  fear 
The  poor  milkman  had  sped  on  his  way, 
And  she  ne'er  saw  him  more  from  that  day, 
For  he  journeys  full  three  miles  around. 
Just  in  order  to  keep  safe  and  sound. 

He  has  heard  of  the  deaf  woman's  boast 
That  her  fiendish  small  boy,  on  a  post 
Daily  perches,  with  heart  full  of  ire, 
And  a  shotgun,  all  ready  to  fire, 
At  the  moment  that  man  should  appear, 
Who  did  empty  that  milk  in  her  ear. 

Emma  Dunning  Banks. 


30  THE   TRIALS   OF   A   SCHOOLMrSTKESS- 

THE  TRIALS  OF  A  SCHOOLMISTRESS. 


TEACHER  (in  mental  arithmetic). — If  there  were 
three  peaches  on  the  table,  Johnny,  and  your  little 
sister  should  eat  one  of  tl\em,  how  many  would  be  left  ? 

Johnny — How  many  little  sisters  would  be  left  ? 

Teacher — Now  listen,  Johnny.  If  there  Avere  three 
peaches  on  the  table,  and  your  little  sister  should  eat 
one,  how  many  would  be  left  ? 

Johnny — We  ain't  had  a  peach  in  the  house  this 
year,  let  alone  three. 

Teacher — We  are  only  supposing  the  jieaches  to  be 
on  the  table,  Johnny. 

Johnny — Then  they  wouldn't  be  real  peaches? 

Teacher — No. 

Johnny — Would  they  be  preserved  ? 

Teacher — Certainly  not. 

Johnny — Pickled  peaches  ? 

Teacher — No,  no.  There  wouldn't  be  any  peaches  at 
all,  as  I  told  you,  Jolinny,  wo  only  suppose  the  three 
peaches  to  be  there. 

Johnny — Then  there  wouldn't  be  any  peaches,  of 
course. 

Teacher — Now,  Johniiy,  put  that  knife  in  your 
pocket  or  I  will  take  it  away,  and  pay  attention  to 
what  I  am  saying.  We  imagine  three  peaches  to  be  on 
the  table. 

Johnny — Yes. 

Teacher — And  your  little  sister  eats  one  of  them  and 
then  goes  away. 

Johnny — Yes,  but  she  wouldn't  go  away  until  she  had 
finished  the  three.      You  don't  know  my  little  sister. 


THE   LABOK    QUESTIO'^.  31 

Teacher — But  suppose  your  mother  was  there  and 
wouldn't  let  her  eat  but  one  ? 

Johnny — Mother's  out  of  tOTrn  and  >von't  be  back 
until  next  Ayeek. 

Teacher  (sternly) — Now,  then,  Johnny,  I  will  put 
the  question  once  more,  and  if  you  do  not  answer  it 
correctly  I  shall  keep  you  after  school.  If  three 
peaches  were  on  the  table,  and  your  little  sister  were  to 
eat  one  of  them,  how  many  would  be  left  ? 

Johnuy  (straightening  up) — There  wouldn't  be  any 
■peaches  left.     I'd  grab  the  other  two. 

Teacher  (touching  the  bell) — The  scholars  are  now 
dismissed.  Johnny  White  will  remain  where  he  is. — 
N.  Y.  Sun. 


THE  LABOR  QUESTION. 


IHAFE  forgodden  my  nodes,  but  I  don'd  care.  Let 
us  come  back  to  de  garden  of  Edane  and  Adam  !  I 
dou'd  know  vot  I  did  mit  dem  notes  (sotto  voce*.  I 
vant  to  proofe  der  voman  vas  der  pest  man  of  de  t^vo — 
id's  so  in  some  families !  Led  us  begin  mit  poetry.  I 
always  like  to  begin  niit  poetry — in  fact,  I  always  do  be- 
gin mit  poetry.  Vot  vas  dat  man's  uamc^ — name — na — 
oh  !  you  know  dot  man's  name,  why,  dot  Englishman  ! 
You  know  dot  man's  name  ?  No  ?  Dree  und  dree  vas 
six,  und  two  vas  eight,  und  two  vas  den,  Tennyson,  dot 
vas  de  man's  name ;  he  wrode  dose  onspirin'  vords, 
"  How  does  de  leedle  puziness  bee,  delighd — to — to 
Dark  und  bide,  he — he — geders  beesvax  all  der  day,  und, 
und,  und  eads  id  up  ad  nighd."  Dot's  vot  J  say  !  Vot 
nghd  has  vone  of  dose  onsignificant  leedle  bumble  boos — 
bumble  bee —  Veil,  ve'll  let  dot  be !  You  dake  a  poor, 
hard-vorkin'  man  vot  comes  to  dis  gountry,  sometimes 


32  THE   UMBRELLA   OK   THE   BEACH. 

he  don'd  come  ;  uf  he  don'd  come,  you  can't  dook  him 
I  see,  dot  is  notin'.  But  1  don'd  care.  No,  I  don'd 
care,  care.     Let  us — I  guess  I'm  stuck ! 


THE  UMBRELLA  ON  THE  BEACH. 


OF  all  the  joys  that  summer  brings, 
The  one  that  doth  excel,  ah  ! 
It  is  to  lounge  upon  the  beach 

Beneath  a  big  umbrella. 
The  sea  quite  near,  and  nearer  still 

Some  cliarming  rustic  belle,  ah  ! 
And  watch  the  girls  in  bathing  suits 

Of  red  and  blue  and  yellah 
Go  through  all  sorts  of  pretty  tricks 

To  fascinate  a  fellah  ; 
To  feel  the  spray  bedew  your  cheek, 

And  briny  fragrance  smell,  ah  ! 
And  scoop  from  out  the  glistening  sand 

A  crab  or  mussel  shell,  ah  ! 
To  think  you're  in  enchanted  land 

Held  by  a  fairy  spell,  ah  ! 
And  dreamily  a  tale  of  love 

In  whispered  tones  to  tell,  ah  ! 
And  then,  perhaps,  a  kiss  to  get 

That  makes  your  bosom  swell,  ah  ! 
With  pride  and  joy.     There's  naught,  I  voWy 

Such  pleasure  can  excel,  ah  ! 
And  if  you  doubt,  go  seek  a  beach, 

Find  some  bewitching  belle,  ah  ! 
And  while  away  an  hour  or  two 

Beneath  a  big  umbrella. 

— Sarper'e  JJaaaf, 


A   VICTIM   OF    CHARITY.  ZM 


A  VICTIM  OF  CHARITY. 


rh»  bashful  young  man  at  the  fair.    How  he  was  soon  relieved  of  his 
spare  change  by  a  fair  young  Manager. 

IT  was  at  a  charity  fair,  and  he  had  come  there  at  tho 
special  request  of  his  "  cousin,"  who  was  at  the 
head  of  the  flower-table.  He  opened  the  door  bash- 
fully, and  stood,  hat  in  hand,  looking  at  the  brilliant 
scene  before  him,  when  a  young  lady  rushed  up,  and, 
grabbing  him  by  the  arm,  said  : 

"  Oh  !  you  must !  you  will  take  a  chance  in  our  cake. 
Come  right  over  here.     This  way." 

BliKshing  to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  he  stammered  out 
that  he  "  really  didn't  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing — '' 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  the  young  lady.  "You'll 
know  me  better  before  you  leave.  I'm  one  of  the  man- 
agers, you  understand.  Come,  the  cake  will  all  be 
taken  if  you  don't  hurry."  And  she  almost  dragged 
him  over  to  one  of  the  middle  tables.  "  There,  now — 
only  fifty  cents  a  slice,  and  you  may  get  a  real  gold 
ring.  You  had  better  take  three  or  four  slices,  it  will 
increase  your  chances,  you  know." 

"  You're  very  good,"  he  stammered.  "  But  I'm  not 
fond  of  cake — that  is,  I  haven't  any  use  for  the  ring — 
I—" 

"Ah,  that  will  be  so  nice,"  said  the  young  lady,  "  for 
now  if  you  get  the  ring  you  can  give  it  back,  and  we'll 
])ut  it  in  another  cake." 

"  Y-e-e-8,"  said  the  young  man  with  a  sickly  smile. 
"  To  be  sure,  but—" 

"  Oh,  there  isn't  any  but  about  it,"  said  the  young 
lady,  imiling  sweetly.     "  You  know  you  promised  '" 
3 


S4  A    VICTIM   OF   CHARITY. 

"  Promised  ?" 

"  Well,  no,  not  exactly  that ;  but  you  will  take  just 
one  slice !"  and  she  looked  her  whole  soul  into  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  suppose — " 

"  To  be  sure.  There  is  your  cake,"  and  she  slipped  a 
great  slice  into  his  delicately -gloved  hands,  as  he  handed 
her  a  one-dollar  bill.  "  Oh,  that  is  too  nice,"  added  the 
young  lady,  as  she  plastered  another  piece  of  cake  on 
top  of  the  one  she  had  just  given  him.  "  I  knew  you 
would  take  at  least  two  chances,"  and  his  one-dollar 
bill  disappeared  across  the  table,  and  then  she  called  to 
a  companion  :  "  Oh,  Miss  Larkins,  here  is  a  .gentleman 
who  Trvishes  to  have  his  fortune  told." 

"  Oh,  does  he  ?  Send  him  right  over,"  answered  Miss 
Larkins. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I'm  afraid  you're  mistaken, 
I  don't  remember  saying  anything  about — " 

"  Oh,  but  you  will,"  said  the  first  young  lady,  tugging 
at  the  youth's  arm.  "  It's  for  the  good  of  the  cause, 
and  you  won't  refuse,"  and  once  more  the  beautiful 
eyes  looked  soulfully  into  his.  "  Here  we  are.  Now 
take  an  envelope ;  open  it.  There !  you  are  going  to  be 
married  in  a  year.  Isn't  that  jolly?  Seventy-five 
cents,  please."  This  time  the  youth  was  careful  to  hand 
out  the  exact  change. 

"Oh,  I  should  just  like  to  have  my  fortune  told. 
May  I  ?"  said  the  first  young  lady. 

"  Of  course  you  may,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Larkins, 
handing  out  one  of  her  envelopes.  "  Oh,  dear,  you  are 
going  to  be  married  this  year,  too.  Seventy-five  ceuta 
more,  please,"  and  the  poor  youth  came  down  with  an- 
other dollar  note.  "  No  change  here,  you  know,"  add«d 
Miss  Larkins,  putting  the  greenback  in  her  pocket. 


A   VICTIM   OF   CHARITY.  35 

"  Oil,  come,  let's  try  our  weight,"  said  the  first  young 
lady,  once  more  tugging  at  the  bashful  youth's  coat 
sleeve,  and  before  he  knew  where  he  was  he  found  him- 
self stauding  on  the  platform  of  the  scales.  "  One  hun- 
dred and  thirty-two,"  said  the  young  lady.  "  Oh,  how 
I  would  like  to  be  a  great  heavy  man,  like  you,"  and 
she  jumped  on  the  scales  like  a  bird.  "  One  hundred 
and  eighteen.    "Well,  that  is  light.     One  dollar,  please." 

"What I"  said  the  youth,  "one  dollar?  Isn't  that 
pretty  steep  ?    I  mean,  I — " 

"  Oh,  but  you  know,"  said  the  young  lady,  "  it  is  for 
charity,"  and  another  dollar  was  added  to  the  treasury 
of  the  fair. 

"  I  think  I'll  have  to  go.  I  have  an  engagement 
at—" 

"  Oh,  but  first  you  must  buy  me  a  bouquet  for  taking 
you  all  around,"  said  the  young  lady.  "  Right  ovei 
here,"  and  they  were  soon  in  front  of  the  flower-table. 
"  Here  is  just  what  I  want,"  and  the  young  lady  picked 
up  a  basket  of  roses  and  violets.  "Seven  dollars, 
please." 

"Oh,  Jack,  is  that  you?"  cried  the  poor  youth's 
"  cousin  "  from  behind  the  flower-counter,  "  and  buying 
flowers  for  Miss  Giggle,  too.  Oh,  I  shall  be  terribly 
jealous  unless  you  buy  me  a  basket,  too,"  and  she  picked 
up  an  elaborate  affair.  "  Twelve  dollars,  please.  Jack," 
and  the  youth  put  down  the  money,  looking  terribly 
confu.sed,  and  much  as  though  he  didn't  know  wltether 
to  make  a  bolt  for  the  door  or  give  up  all  hope  and 
settle  down  in  despair. 

"  You'll  excuse  me,  ladies,"  he  stammered,  "  but  I 
must  go  ;  I  have " 

"  Here,  let  me  pin  this  in  your  button-hole,"  inter* 


36  DER    DOG    UND    DKK    LOBS'-TEK. 

rupted  his  "  cousin."  "  Fifty  cents,  please,"  and  then 
the  youth  broke  away  and  made  a  straight  line  ior  the 
door. 

"  AVell,  il'  ever  I  visit  another  fair,  may  I  be— be 
swindled !"  he  ejaculated,  as  he  counted  over  his  cash 
to  see  if  he  had  the  car  fare  to  ride  home. 


DER  DOG  UND  DER  LOBCTER. 


DOT  dog,  he  vas  dot  kind  of  dog 
Vot  ketch  dot  ret  so  sly, 
Und  squeeze  him  rait  his  leedle  teeth, 
Und  den  dot  ret  vas  die. 

Dot  dog,  he  vas  onquisitive 

Verefter  he  vas  go, 
Und  like  dot  voman,  all  der  time, 

Someding  he  vants  to  know. 

Von  day,  all  by  dot  market  stand, 
Vere  fish  und  clams  dey  sell. 

Dot  dog  vas  poke  his  nose  aboud 
Und  find  out  vot  he  smell. 

Dot  lobster,  he  vas  dook  to  snooze 

Mit  vone  eye  open  vide, 
Und  ven  dot  dog  vas  come  along. 

Dot  lobster  he  vas  spied. 

Dot  dog,  he  smell  him  mit  his  noze 
Und  scratch  him  rait  his  paws, 

Und  push  dot  lobster  all  aboud, 
Und  vender  vat  he  \as. 


DED  dck:;  und  der  lobstee.  37 

Uud  deu  dot  lobster,  he  voke  up, 

Und  crawl  yoost  like  dot  snail, 
Und  make  vide  open  ov  hi;i  claws, 

Und  grab  dot  doggie's  tail. 

Und  deu  so  quick  as  never  va«s, 

Dot  cry  vent  to  der  sky, 
Und  like  dot  swallows  vot  dey  sing, 

Dot  dog  vas  homevard  fly. 

Yoost  like  dot  dunderbolt  lie  vent — 

Der  sight  vas  awful  grand, 
Und  every  street  dot  dog  was  turn, 

Down  vent  dot  apple-stand. 

Der  shildren  cry,  der  vinimin  scream, 

Der  mens  fell  on  der  ^i-ound, 
Und  dot  boliceman  mit  his  club 

Vas  novare  to  pe  found. 

I  make  dot  run,  und  call  dot  dog, 

Und  vistle  awful  kind  ; 
Dot  makes  no  diiferent  vot  I  say, 

Dot  dog  don't  look  pehind. 

Und  pooty  soon  dot  race  vas  end, 

Dot  dog  vas  lost  his  tail — 
Dot  lobster,  I  vas  took  him  liome, 

Und  cook  him  in  dot  pail. 

Dot  moral  vas,  I  tole  you  'boud, 

Pefore  vas  nelfer  known — 
Don't  vant  to  find  out  too  much  tings 

Dot  vaim't  ov  your  own. 


..6 


THE   LOAD   ON   HIS   MIND. 


A  PROPOSAL. 


LITTLE  Pet, 
When  with  dew  the  grass  is  wet. 
We  in  rosy  mood  will  set 
Out  to  seek  where  sigus  are  met 
With  the  legend  gay  '^  To  Let." 
We  a  purple  house  will  get 
Where  the  sparrows  chat  and  fret. 
And  the  dreamy  lawn  a  net 
Is  of  fern  and  violet. 
There,  together,  care — regret 
We  will  conquer ;  Harte  the  Bret 
I  will  read  to  you  till  yet 
Brighter  burn  your  eyes  of  jet. 
Answer,  tell  me,  little  pet, 
Will  you  go  with  me  ? 

"  You  bet !"  —Puck 


THE  LOAD  ON  HIS  MIND. 


QOME  one,  a  figure  arrayed  in  white,  with  frills 
Ik.?  around  its  head  and  blood  in  its  eye,  let  him  in, 
and  he  lounged  with  easy  grace  into  the  first  chair  that 
went  past  him,  after  he  had  made  several  vain  attempts 
to  seat  himself  on  the  piano.  The  reproachful  figure  of 
Mk.  Bosbyschell  regarded  him  with  ealm  severity,  and 
her  icy  silence  made  him  feel  uncomfortable. 

"  Moggareck,"  he  said,  thickly,  but  with  grave  ear- 
Aeatness,  •'  Moggareck  "  (Mrs.  Bosbyschell's  front  name 


THE    LOAD   ON   HIS   MIND.  39 

is  Margaret),  "  I've— hie— I've  gotta — gotta  quickened 
coshielsce." 

"  A  what  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Bosbyschell,  in  calm  disdain. 

"  A  quickened  coshieuce,"  repeated  Mr.  Bosbyschell. 
"  A  quickened  coshiece.  A — hie — I've  got  something 
enmy  min',  Moggart.  I've  gotta — hie — cofFessiol — cod- 
fession — gotacofessiou  t'make." 

"  You  can  make  it  in  the  morning,"  slie  said,  imperi- 
ously. "  I  am  going  to  bed.  You  may  sleep  where  you 
please,  or,  rather,  where  you  can." 

"  Naw,"  protested  Mr.  Bosbyschell,  with  much  vehem- 
ence, "  can't — can't — wait — hie — can't  go  t'sleep  'ith 
th'sload  ommy — ommy  mind.  Got  cofession  t'make, 
an'  mus' — mus'  make  it.  Done  suthin',  Moggart — hie 
— been — been  a — beena  load  ommy  mind  long  time. 
Been — hie — carryin'  guilty  secret  'round  'ith  me  too 
long.  Quickened  coshience  won'  gimme — won'  gimmy 
nope — hie — no  peace.  Mus'  tell  you  sumpin',  Moggart  ; 
SLimpin'  '11  s'prise  you.     I've — " 

"  Mercy  on  me,  man  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bosbyschell, 
startled  from  her  composure,  what  have  you  been  doing  ? 
Tell  me,  quick ;  tell  me,  for  Heaven's  sake  !" 

"  Moggart,"  said  Mr.  Bosbyschell,  "  it's  sumthin' 
ye  nev — hie — nevec  suspec — suspected.  It'll  mos'  kill 
ye.  Hie!  S'pec'  it'll  nigh  drive  me  crazy.  'Sawful 
t'  think  'bout  it.  Y' — y'  wouldn't  b'lieve  it  of  me. 
Margart,  y' — ye  wouldn'  I've  been " 

"  Speak !"  shrieked  the  almost  frantic  woman.  I'm 
wild  with  suspense!  Speak,  tell  me  all,  quick  !  Oh,  I 
could  tear  her  eyes  out !  Tell  me,  you  brute,  what  is 
her  name  ?     Who  is  she  ?" 

"Wh— wh~hic!  Who'sh  who?"  demanded  Mr. 
Bosbyschell,  in  blank  amazement. 


45  PERSONAL. 

"  The  womau,  you  wretcli !"  screamed  his  wife  ;  "  who 
is  the  woman  ?" 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  Moggart,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Bosbyschell, 
•'  'tain  th — hie — that.  Wussan  that.  'Smore  dreadful 
— hie.  More  crushin'.  You — hie — y'won't  hardly 
b'lieve  it — Jiic — w'en  tell  ye.     Moggart — " 

"Speak!"  wailed  the  auxious  woman,  wringing  her 
hands.  "  Speak  ;  let  me  know  the  worst !  What  have 
you  been  doing  ?" 

"  Moggart,"  said  Mr.  Bosbyschell,  solemnly,  and  with 
the  air  of  a  man  upon  whom  a  quickened  conscience 
had  wrought  its  perfect  work.  "  Margart,"  he  said, 
nerving  himself  for  the  confession,  "  Margort,  I've — hie 
— I've  been  drinking  I" — Burlington  Haivkeye. 


PERSONAL. 


THE  mercury  lay  in  her  bulb  at  morn, 
And  cuddled  and  shivered  and  looked  forlorn, 
Bemoaned  her  fate  ; 
"  O,  a  thing  I  be 
Of  low  degree ; 
I  want  to  be  big  and  I  want  to  be  tall, 
But  daily  I  struggle  and  daily  I  fall. 
And  I  haven't  succeeded  this  summer  at  all. 

For  the  highest  I've  got  to  was  eighty-eight! 
Oh  !  sun,  good  sun,  why  cannot  you  shed 
Your  rays  more  warmly  upon  the  head 
Of  a  poor  little  mercury  here  in  her  bed, 
And  help  her  to  climb 
To  a  height  sublime  ?" 
'Twas  thus  the  mercury  sighed  and  plead. 


THE   FLOOD    AJfD   THK    Artk.  <B 

And  her  way  so  won 
The  heart  of  the  suu 
He  muttered :  "  I'll  give  to  the  maid  awhii© 
Mj  most  magnificent  melting  smile." 
And  then,  Great  Scott  I 
But  it  got 
Hot! 
And  the  vain  little  mercury  swelled  with  pride, 
A.nd  climbed  until  she  reached  a  hundred-and-one, 
And  cried  iu  delight  over  what  she  had  done : 
"  I'm  the  bride 
Of  the  sun. 
And  it's  fun !" 

— Chicago  Tribunt. 


THE  FLOOD  AND  THE  ARK. 


A  Hard-Shell  Methodist  sermon  on  nature. 

IN  the  autumn  of  1830  I  attended  a  Methodist  camp» 
meeting  in  the  interior  of  Georgia,  and  heard  a 
sermon  which  I  have  never  been  able  to  forget  or  de- 
scribe. 

The  speaker  had  just  been  licensed,  and  it  was  bis 
first  sermon.  In  person  he  was  small,  bullet-headed,  of 
a,  fair,  sandy  complexion ;  and  his  countenance  was  in- 
dicative of  sincerity  and  honesty.  He  was  taking-  up 
the  Bible  in  regular  order  for  the  first  time  in  liis  life, 
and  had  gotten  as  far  a.s  the  history  of  Noah,  the  ark, 
the  flood,  etc.  Besides,  just  before  his  ('(mversion.  ho 
had  been  reading  Goldsmitli's  "Animated  Nater,"  uiid 
the   two   together,  by  the   aid   and   assistance   of   ths 


42  THE  FLOOD   AND  THE  ARK. 

Spent,  had  led  him  into  a  powerful  train  of  thinking 
as  he  stood  at  his  work-bench,  day  in  and  day  out. 
The  text  was :  "As  it  was  in  the  days  of  Noah,  so  shall 
the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  be ;"  and  he  broke  out 
into  the  following  strain  : 

"  Yes,  my  bretherin,  the  heavens  of  the  windows  waa 
opened-ah,  and  the  floods  of  the  g-r-e-a-t  deep  kivered 
the  waters-ah ;  and  there  was  Shem,  and  there  waa 
Ham,  and  there  waa  Japhet-ah,  a-l-l-a  gwine  into  the 
ark -ah. 

"  And  there  was  the  elephant-ah,  that  g-r-e-a-t  ani- 
mal-ah  of  which  Goldsmith  describes  in  his  '  Animated 
Nater'-ah,  what  is  as  big  as  a  house-ah,  and  his  bonea 
as  big  as  a  tree-ah,  depending  somewhat  upon  the  size 
of  the  tree-ah,  a-1-1  a-gwine  into  the  ark-ah.  And  the 
heavens  of  the  windows  was  opened-ah,  and  the  floods 
of  the  g-r-e-a-t  deep  kivered  the  waters-ah ;  and  there 
was  Shem,  and  there  was  Ham,  and  there  was  Japhet- 
ah,  a-1-1  a-gwine  into  the  ark-ah. 

"  And  there  was  the  hippopotamus-ah,  that  g-r-e-a-t 
animal-ah,  of  which  Goldsmith  describes  in  his  *  Ani- 
■Tiated  Nater*-ah,  what  has  a  g-r-e-a-t  horn  a-stickin* 
light  straight  up  out  of  his  forward-ah,  six  feet  long, 
more  or  less-ah,  depending  somewhat  on  the  length  of 
it-ah,  a-1-1  a-gwine  into  the  ark-ah. 

"  And  there  was  the  giraffe-ah,  my  bretherin,  that  ill- 
contrived  reptile  of  wliicli  Goldsmith  describes  in  his 
*  Animated  Nater'-ah,  whose  fore-legs  is  twenty -five  feet 
long-ah^  more  or  less-ah,  depending  somewhat  on  the 
length  of  'em-ah,  and  a  neck  so  long  he  can  eat  hay  off 
the  top  of  a  barn-ah,  depending  somewhat  on  the  hithe 
of  the  barn-ah,  a-1-1  a-gwine  into  the  ark-ah.  And  the 
heavens  of  the  windows  was  opened-ah,  and  the  flood* 


THE   FLOOD   AXD   THE   ARK.  43 

of  the  great  deep  kivered  the  waters-ah  ;  and  there  was 
Ham,  and  there  was  Shem,  and  there  was  Japhet-ah, 
a-1-1  a-gwine  into  the  ark-ah. 

"  Afld  there  was  the  zebra,  my  bretherin-ah,  that 
b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l  animal  of  which  Goldsmith  describes  in 
his  *  Animated  Nater'-ah,  what  has  three  hundred 
titripes  a-runnin'  right  straight  around  his  body-ah, 
more  or  less-ah,  depending  somewhat  on  the  number  of 
stripes-ah,  and  uary  two  stripes  alike-ah,  a-1-1  a-gwine 
into  the  ark-ah. 

"  Then  there  was  the  anaconder-ah,  that  g-r-e-a-t  sar- 
pint  of  which  Goldsmith  describes  in  his  '  Animated 
Xater'-ah,  what  can  swallow  six  oxens  at  a  meal-ah, 
])rovided  his  appetite  don't  call  for  less-ah,  a-1-1  a-g\vine 
into  the  ark-ah.  And  the  heavens  of  the  windows  was 
opened-ah,  and  the  floods  of  the  great  deep  kivered  the 
«aters-ah  ;  and  there  was  Shem,  and  there  was  Ham, 
*nd  there  was  Japhet-ah,  a-1-1  a-gv,ine  into  the  ark-ah. 

"  And  there  was  the  lion,  bretherin-ah,  what  is  the 
king  of  beasts,  accordin'  to  Scripter-ah,  and  who,  as  St. 
Paul  says-ah,  prowls  around  of  a  night  like  a  roarin' 
devil-ah,  a-eeekin'  if  he  can't  catch  somebody-ah,  a-l-l 
ft-gwine  into  the  ark-ah. 

"  And  there  was  the  antelope-ah,  my  brethe^'in,  that 
frisky  little  critter-ah,  of  which  Goldsmith  da-^^ibes  in 
his  *  Animated  Kater'-ah,  what  can  jump  sef^'.nty-fivo 
foot  straight  up-ah,  and  twice  that  distaua^  down-ah, 
provided  his  legs  will  take  him  that  far-ah,  ?.  \-\  a-gAvine 
into  the  ark-ah.  And  the  heavens  of  the  mndows  was 
opened-ah,  and  the  floods  of  the  groat  deep  kivered  the 
waters-ah;  and  there  was  Shem,  and  there  wus  *Iam. 
und  there  was  Japhet-ah,  a-1-1  a-gwine  into  the  ark-ah. 

**  But  time  would  fail  me,  my  bretberiu.  t^    Jescnh* 


4%  THE   FLOOD   AND   THE   ARK. 

aU  Lhe  animals  that  went  into  the  ark-ah.  Your  pa- 
tience and  ray  strength  would  give  out  before  I  got  half 
through-ah.  We  talk,  my  bretherin,  about  the  faith  of 
Abraham  and  the  patience  of  Job-ah  ;  but  it  strikes 
me  they  didn't  go  much  ahead  of  old  Noer-ah.  It  tuck 
a  right  smart  chance  o'  both  to  gather  up  all  that 
gopher-wood,  and  pitch  and  other  truck  for  to  build 
that  craft-ah.  I  am  a  sort  of  carpenter  myself,  and 
nave  some  idea  of  the  job-ah.  But  to  hanmier  and  saw 
and  maul  and  split  away  on  that  one  thing  a  hundred 
and  twenty  year-ah,  an'  lookin'  an'  lookin'  for  his  pay 
in  another  world-ah — I  tell  ye,  my  bretherin,  if  the 
Lord  had  a-sot  Job  at  that,  it's  ray  opinion  he  would 
a-tuck  his  wife's  advice  inside  of  fifty  year-ah.  Be- 
sides, no  doubt  his  righteous  soul  was  vexed  every  day, 
hand  runnin'-ah,  with  the  filthy  communications  of  the 
blasphemious  set  that  was  always  a-loferin'  and  a-saun- 
terin'  around-ah,  a-pickin'  up  his  tools  and  a-misplacin' 
'em,  and  a-callin'  him  an  old  fool  or  somethin'  worse-ah. 
And,  to  clap  the  climax,  he  wjis  a  preacher,  and  had 
that  ongodly  gineration  on  his  hands  every  Sunday-ah, 
But  the  Lord  stood  by  him,  and  seed  him  through  the 
job-ah;  and,  when  everything  was  ready,  he  didn't 
send  Noer  out  to  scrimmage  an'  scour  and  hunt  all  over 
the  wide  world  for  to  git  up  the  crittei-s  and  varmints 
that  he  wanted  saved-ah.  They  all  came  to  his  hand  of 
their  own  accord-ah,  and  Noer  only  had  to  head  'em  in 
and  fix  'em  around  in  their  places-ah.  Then  he  gath- 
ered up  his  own  family,  and  the  Lord  shut  him  in,  and 
the  heavens  of  the  windows  was  opened-ah, 

"  But,  my  bretherin,  Noer-ah  had  use  for  patience 
after  this-ah.  Think  what  a  time  he  must  a-had  a- 
feedin'  and  a-waterin'  and  a-cleanin'  out  after  gich  a 


THE   FLOOD    AND   THE   ARK.  'i^ 

crowd-all  I  Some  of  'em,  according  to  Goldsmith's 
'Animated  Nater'-ah,  was  carnivorious,  and  wanted  fresh 
meat-ah  ;  and  some  was  herbivorious,  and  wanted  vege- 
table food-ah  ;  and  some  was  wormivorious,  and  swal- 
lowed live  things  whole-ah  ;  and  he  had  to  feed  every- 
thing accordin'  to  his  nater.  Hence  we  view,  my  breth- 
erin-ah,  as  the  nater  of  the  animals  wasn't  altered  by  goin' 
into  the  ark-ah,  some  of  'em  would  roar  and  howl  and 
bark  and  bray  and  squeal  and  blat  the  whole  indurin' 
night-ah,  a-drivin'  sleep  from  his  eyes,  and  slumber  from 
his  eyelets-ah  ;  and  at  the  first  streak  o'  daylight  the  last 
hoof  of  'em  would  set  up  a  noise  accordin'  to  his  nater- 
ah,  and  the  bulls  of  Bashan  wer'n't  nowhar-ah,  I've 
often  wondered  how  their  women  stood  it.  Scripter  is 
silent  on  this  piut-ah  ;  but  I  think  I  know  of  some  that 
would  a-been  vapory  and  nervious  under  sich  circum- 
stauces-ah,  and  in  an  unguarded  moment  might  a-said 
eomethin'  besides  their  prayers-ah. 

"  My  bretherin,  one  more  word  for  old  Noer-ah,  and 
I  will  draw  to  a  elose-ah.  After  the  out-beatin'  time  he 
had,  first  and  last,  for  so  many  hundred  year-ah,  if  he 
did,  by  accident  or  otherwise,  take  a  leetle  too  much 
wine  on  one  occaslon-ah,  I  think  less  ort  to  a-been  said 
about  it-ah.  Besides,  I  think  he  was  entitled  to  on© 
spree-ah,  as  he  made  the  wine  hisself ;  and  accordin'  to 
Scripter,  it  makes  glad  the  heart  o'  man-ah. 

"  My  bretherin,  jus  it  was  in  the  days  of  Noer-ah,  so 
Rhall  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  be-ah.  The  world 
will  never  be  drowned  agin-ah.  It  will  be  sot  a-fire, 
and  burnt  up,  root  and  branch,  with  a  fervient  heat-ah. 
Oh !  what  will  wretched,  ondone  sinners  do  on  that 
orful  day-ah  ?  They  will  be  put  to  their  wits' end-ah, 
and  knock  and  straddle  around  in  every  direction-ah ; 


46  FARMER    STEBBINS   ON    ROLLERS. 

for  all  at  onct,  my  bretherin-ah,  they  will  behold  the 
heavens  a-darkenin'-ah,  and  the  seas  a-roarin'-ah,  the 
tombs  a-bustin-ah,  the  mountains  a-meltin'-ah ;  and 
everything,  I  think,  will  be  in  a  confused  and  onsettled 
state-ah." 


FARMER  STEBBINS  ON  ROLLERS. 


DEAR  Cousin  John, — 
We  got  here  safe — my  worthy  wife  an'  me — 
An'  put  up  at  James  Sunnyhope's — a  pleasant  place  to  be  ; 
An'  Isabel,  his  oldest  girl,  is  home  from  school  just  now, 
An'  pets  me  with  her  manners  all  her  young  man  will 

aUow ; 
An'  his   good   wife  has  monstrous  sweet  an'  culinary 

ways  : 
It  is  a  summery  place  to  pass  a  few  cold  winter  days. 

Besides,  I've  various  cast-iron  friends  in  different  parts 

o'  town, 
That's  always  glad  to  have  me  call  whenever  I  come 

down  ; 
But  yesterday,  when  'mongst  the  same  I  undertook  to 

roam, 
I  could  not  find  a  single  one  that  seemed  to  be  to  home ! 
An'  when  I  asked  their  whereabouts,  the  answer  was, 

"  I  think, 
If  you're  a-goin'  down  that  way,  you'll  find  'em  at  the 

Rink." 

I  asked  what  night  the  Lyceum  folks  would  hold  their 

next  debate 
(I've  sometimes  gone  an'  helped  'em  wield  the  cares  at 

church  an'  state) ; 


FARMER   STEBBINS   OX    ROLLERS.  47 

An'  if  protracted  meetin's  now  was  holdiu'  anywhere 
(I  like  to  get  my  soul  fed  up  with  fresh  celestial  fare)  ; 
Or  when  the  next  church  social  was  ;  they'd  give  a 

kuowin'  wink, 
An'  say,  "  I  b'lieve  there's  nothiu'  now  transpirin'  but 

the  Rink." 

"  What  is  this  '  Rink  '?"  I  innocent  inquired,  that  night 

at  tea. 
"  Oh,  you  must  go,"  said  Isabel,  "  this  very  night  with 

me! 
And  Mrs.  Stebbins,  she  must  go,  an'  skate  there  with  us, 

too !" 
My  wife  replied,  "  My  dear,  just  please  inform  me  when 

I  do. 
But  you  two  go."     An'  so  we  went ;  an'  saw  a  circus 

there, 
With  which  few  sights  I've  ever  struck  will  anyways 

compare. 

It  seems  a  good-sized  meetin'-house  had  given  up  its 

pews 
(The  church  an'  pastor  had   resigned,  from  spiritua] 

blues), 
An'  several  acres  of  the  floor  was  made  a  skatin'  ground, 
Where  folks  of  every  shape  an'  size  went  skippin'  round 

and  round ; 
An'  in  the  midst  a  big  brass  band  was  helpin'  on  the  fun, 
An'  everything  was  ;ay  as  sixteen  weddin's  joined  in  one. 

I've  seen  small  insects  crazy  like  go  circlin'  through  the 

air, 
An'  wondered  if  they  tliought  some  time  they'd  maybe 

get  somewhere  ; 


48  FARMER   STKBBIXS    0\    ROLLERS. 

I've   seen    a    million  river  bugs  go  scootin'  round  an' 

round, 
An'  wondered  what  'twas  all  about,  or  what  they'd  lost 

or  found ; 
But  men  an'  women,  boys  an'  girls,  upon  a  hard-wood 

floor, 
All   whirlin'   round   like   folks  possessed,  I  never  saw 

before. 

An'  then  it  all  came  back  to  me,  the  things  I'd  read  an' 

heard 
About  the  rinks,  an'  how  their  ways  was  wicked  an' 

absurd  : 
I'd  learned  somewhere  that  skatin'  wasn't  a  healthy 

thing  to  do; 
But  there  was  Doctor  Saddlebags — his  fam'ly  with  him, 

too. 
I'd  heard  that  'twasn't  a  proper  place  for  Christian  folks 

to  seek  ; 
Old  Deacon  Perseverance  Jinks  flew  past  me  like  a 

streak. 

Then  Sister  Is'bel  Sunnyhopes  put  on  a  pair  o'  skates, 
An'  started  off"  as  if  she'd  run  through  several  different 

States. 
My  goodness !  how  that  gal  showed  up !  I  never  did 

opine 
That  she  could  twist  herself  to  look  so  charmin'  an'  so 

fine; 
And  then  a  fellow  that  she  knew  took  hold  o'  hands 

with  her, 
A  aort  o'  double  crossways  like,  an'  helped  her,  as  H 

were. 


FARMER   STEBBins   ON    ROLLERS.  43 

I  used  to  skate ;  an"  'twas  a  sport  of  which  I  once  wag 
fond. 

Wh}-,  I  could  write  my  autograph  on  Tompkins'  saw- 
mill pond. 

Of  course,  to  slip  on  runners,  that  is  one  thing,  one  may 
say. 

An'  raovin'  rouiui  on  casters  is  a  somewhat  different 
way ; 

But  when  the  fun  that  fellow  had  came  flashin'  to  my 
eye, 

I  says,  "  I'm  young  again  ;  by  George,  I'll  skate  once 
more  or  die !" 

A  little  boy  a  pair  o'  skates  to  fit  my  boots  soon  found — 
He  had  to  j)ut  'em  on  for  me  (I  weigh  three  hundred 

pound) ; 
An'  then  I  straightened  up,  an'  says,  "  Look  here,  you 

younger  chaps, 
You  think  you're  runnin'  some'at  past  us  older  heads, 

perhaps. 
If  this  young  lady  here  to  me  will  trust  awhile  her  fate, 
I'll  go  around  a  dozen  times,  an'  show  you  how  to  skate." 

She  wavS  a  niceish,  ]dump  young  gal,  I'd  noticed  quite 
awhile. 

An'  she  reached  out  her  hands  with  'most  too  daugh- 
terly a  smile  ; 

But  off  we  pushed,  with  might  an'  main — when  all  to 
once  the  wheels 

Departed  suddenly  above,  an'  took  along  my  heels  ; 

My  head  assailed  the  floor,  as  if  'twas  tryin'  to  get 
through, 

An'  all  the  stars  I  ever  saw  arrived  at  once  in  view. 
4 


60  FARMER   STEBBINS   ON    ROLLERS. 

'Twas  sing'lar  (as  not  quite  unlike  a  sa-sv-log  there  I  lay) 
How  many  of  the  other  folks  was  goin'  that  game  way  -, 
They  stumbled  over  me  in  one  large  animated  heap, 
An'  formed  a  pile  o'  legs  an'  arms  not  far  from  ten 

foot  deep  ; 
But  after  they  had   all  climbed  off,  in  ratlier  fierce  sur- 
prise, 
I  lay  there  like  a  saw-log  still — considerin'  how  to  rise. 

Then  dignified  I  rose,  Avith  hands  upon  my  ample  waist, 
An'  then  sat  down  again  with  large  and  very  painful 

haste ; 
An'  rose  again,  and  started  off  to  find  a  place  to  rest, 
Then  on  my  gentle  stomach  stood,  an'  tore  my  meetin' 

vest ; 
When  Sister  Sunnyhopes  slid  up,  as  trim  as  trim  could  be, 
An'  she  an'  her  young  fellow  took  compassionate  charge 

o'  me. 

Then  after  I'd  got  off  the  skates,  an'  flung  'em  out  o'  reach, 
I  rose,  while  all  grew  hushed  an'  still,  an'  made  the  fol- 

lowin'  speech  : 
"  My  friends,  I've  struck  a  small  idea  (an'  struck  it 

pretty  square), 
Which  physic'lly  an'  morally,  will  some  attention  bear  : 
Those  who  their  balance  can  preserve  are  safe  here  any 

day  ; 
An'  those  who  can't,  I  rather  think,  had  better  keep 

away." 

Then  I  limped  out,  Avith  very  strong,  unprecedented 
pains. 

An'  hired  a  horse  at  liberal  rates  to  draw  home  my  re- 
mains ; 


THE  boy'p  story.  51 

An'   lay   abed   three  days,  while  wife  laughed  at  an' 

Hursed  me  well, 
An'  used  up  all  the  arnica  two  drug-stores  had  to  sell ; 
An'  when  Miss  Is'bel    Sunnyhopes    said,  "  Won't  you 

skate  once  more  ?" 
I  answered,   "  Not   while   I  remain  on  this  terrestrial 

shore."  Will  Carleton. 


THE  BOY'S  STORY. 


I'M  a  boy.  I'm  not  so  big  as  some  folks,  but  I've  got 
eyes,  an'  they  see  things,  an'  I've  got  ears,  an'  they 
hear  things,  an'  I  aint  a  fool,  an'  don't  know  nuthin', 
if  'Lisbuth — she's  my  big  sister — does  say  so  when  she 
gits  mad  an'  has  tantrums.  Her  sayin'  so  don't  make  it 
so,  I  reckon.  I  don't  like  'Lisbuth,  cos  she  snajis  my 
cars  awful,  sometimes  ;  an'  folks  what  snaps  boys'  ears 
hadn't  ought  to  have  nobody  like  'em.  They're  too 
mean  for  anything,  that's  what  they  be. 

"  Never  you  mind,"  I've  said  to  'Lisbuth  more'n  once 
when  she'd  been  a  snappin'  me,  "  I'll  pay  ye  off  some 
day,  an'  don't  you  forgit  it."  Then  slic'd  up  an'  snap 
me  agin,  cos  I  was  sassy,  she  said.  I  kep'  my  word,  jest 
as  I  said  I  would.  I  paid  her  off  fer  all  her  snappin', 
an'  I'll  bet  she  wishes  she'd  ben  a  little  pleasantcr.  I 
s'pose  I've  got  lots  o'  snappin'  to  stan'  yet,  but  when  I 
think  how  mad  she  was,  it  tickles  me  so  I  can  stan* 
a  good,  big  snappin'  'thout  feelin'  it  much.  My  I  but 
wa'n't  she  jest  hoppin',  tho'  ?     Oh,  no  !     I  guess  not ! 

You  see,  'Lisbuth,  she  had  a  bo.  She  gits  lots 
o'  *em,  COB  she's  good  look  in',  an'  kind  o'  smooth  like. 
Her  ban's  look  nice  to  the  bos,  with  rings  on  'em,  cob 


52  THE  boy's  story. 

they  don't  feel  'em  a  snappin'  their  ears.  Once  she 
snapped  my  ears,  an'  then  she  slapped  'em,  an'  her  big 
ring,  it  hurt  awful,  an',  says  I,  "  What  d'ye  keep  yer 
han's  so  still  fer  when  bos  come  ?  Why  don't  ye  snap 
my  ears  then  ?  Nex'  time  one  comes,  I'll  up  an'  make 
faces  at  you,  so  you'll  snap  me,  an'  show  'em  how  smart 
you  be  with  yer  fingei-s.  Tliey  think  yer  a  angel,  but 
that's  cos  they  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  it."  So  the 
nex'  time  her  bo  came  I  went  down-stairs,  an'  got  right 
up  afoi'e  'Lisbuth,  an'  I  made  faces  at  her  awful,  an'  she 
jest  sot  an'  laffed,  an'  sez,  "  What  a  redicklus  boy." 
"Why  don't  yer  snap  me?"  sez  I.  "I  would  like  to," 
sez  she,  kinder  low,  so  her  feller  shouldn't  hear,  an'  then 
mother  she  come  in,  an'  I  dassaut  behave  to  'Lisbuth 
no  more  alter  that. 

Sophy — she's  my  'tother  sister — she  had  a  bo,  too,  an' 
<she  liked  him  lots.  I  liked  him,  too,  cos  he  gives  me 
things,  an'  he  wasn't  alius  a  lookin'  jest  as  if  he  thought 
boys  hadn't  no  bisness  to  be  round  when  our  folksf 
wasn't  in  sight.  Some  fellers,  they'd  be  awful  clever 
when  they  thought  ma  or  pa  see  'em,  but  if  they  didn't, 
they'd  be  cross  as  two  sticks,  an'  jerk  their  canes  away 
from  me,  and  say  they  wisht  I'd  mind  my  bisness,  and 
grumble  like  fury  'bout  everything  I  did.  I  always 
paid  'em  oif  for  being  mean,  but  Henry,  he  wan't  so. 
He'd  let  me  wear  his  hat,  an'  once  he  helped  me  ])lay 
horse,  an'  he  kicked  me,  an'  I  sed  I  didn't  call  that  fun, 
cos  it  hurt,  but  he  said  that  was  all  right,  cos  that  was 
what  horses  kicked  for,  an'  I  sed  I  wouldn't  play  horse 
that  way.     An'  he  lafPed,  but  I  didn't. 

Henry,  he  liked  Sophy,  an'  they  sit  an'  look  at  each 
other  jest  as  ef  they'd  like  to  swaller  each  other.  1 
(jeen  'em,  cos  I  lookt  through  a  crack  in  the  door.     An' 


THE   boy's  story.  5S 

»nce  I  heerd  a  sinackin',  an  tez  I,  all  to  wonsi  tliroiigh 
the  keyli.jlc,  "  What's  that  I  heerd  ?"  an'  then  I  opened 
the  door  an'  lookt  at  'em  ;  an'  Henry,  he  was  red,  an' 
Sophy,  she  was  red,  too,  an'  they  weren't  near'n  ten  feet 
of  each  other.  They  thought  they'd  fool  me,  but  they 
didn't  a  mite.  He'd  been  a  kissin'  her,  an'  I  know  it. 
If  Soj^hy  had  been  like  'Lisbuth,  she'd  a  snapped  ma 
when  her  bo  was  gone,  but  Sophy,  she  ain't  that  kind.  1 
like  her  tip-top.  She's  got  some  feelin'  fer  boys,  but 
that  old  'Lisbuth,  she  haint. 

'Lisbuth,  she  up  an'  took  a  fancy  to  Sophy's  feller, 
an'  she  jest  did  her  level  best  to  git  him  away.  She'd 
smile  at  him  as  sweet  as  sugar,  an'  she'd  make  him  sing 
while  she  played  on  the  planner,  an'  she  jest  went  foi 
liim  heavy.  But  she  wouldn't  made  out  nothin'  if  she 
hadn't  got  Sophy  to  send  him  a  valentine.  It  was  a 
real  ridiclus  one,  an'  it  made  him  mud,  cos  'Lisbuth, 
mean  old  thing,  she  went  an'  made  hiin  think  Sophy 
was  mad  with  him,  an'  wanted  to  let  him  know  that  her 
heart  wa'n't  his'n  no  more.  An'  so  'Lisbuth,  she  fooled 
hiin,  an'  he  come  to  see  her,  an'  he'd  be  awful  cool 
to  Sophy,  an'  byme-by  she  got  so  she'd  git  up  an'  go 
right  out  of  the  room  when  she  see  him  a  comin'. 

"  Don't  you  like  Sophy  no  more  ?"  sez  I  to  him  one 
day,  an'  he  got  awful  red,  an'  'Lisbuth,  she  was  mad,  an' 
she  got  right  up  an'  grabbed  me  by  the  arm,  an'  when 
she  got  me  into  the  hall,  she  snapped  my  ears  that  hard 
ihat  I  couldn't  stan'  it,  an'  I  tread  on  her  foot,  which 
has  got  a  corn,  an'  she  sez,  "  Oh  !"  as  ef  it  hurt  her 
awful,  an'  scrooched  right  down.  "  I'm  glad  of  it,"  sca 
I.  "  My  ears  has  got  as  much  feelin's  in  'em  as  your 
corns  has,"  an'  I  sed  it  up  loud,  so  h(;  could  hear.  Then 
J  jerked  an"  ran  off.     I  went  up  to  Sophy'*  room,  »a' 


ft4  TflJE  BOY'S  STORY. 

told  her  how 'LLsbuth  had  been  snapplu' me,  an*  sh« 
laid  it  was  too  bad,  an'  put  arniky  on  my  cavg.  It  inada 
em  smart  awful,  but  they  didn't  get  sore  much.  Arniky 
tops  them  from  gittiu'  sore  after  they've  been  snapt. 

".What  had  you  been  doiu'  to  'Lisbuth?"  asked 
t3o>)hy. 

•'  NothinV'  sez  I,  "  only  I  asked  him  if  he  didn't  like 
you  no  more."  Then  Sophy,  sha  set  still  a  minnit,  an' 
th-^u  she  begun  to  cry.  "  No,  he  don't  like  me  any 
more,"  seys  she,  jest  as  if  I  wasn't  there.  "  Why  was 
I  fool  enough  to  send  him  that  old  valentine,  jest  coa 
'Lisbuth,  she  dared  me  to  ?"  Then  she  dropped  her 
head  onto  the  table  an'  cried  an'  sniveled  awful,  an' 
I  see  how  'twas,  if  I  wa'n't  big,  an'  I  jest  made  up  my 
mind  I'd  come  it  over  that  snappin'  old  'Lisbuth.  So  I 
went  down,  an'  set  on  the  fence,  an'  when  Henry  came 
along  I  sez,  "  Sophy,  she's  awful  sorry  she  sent  that  val- 
entine, an'  she  wouldn't  if  'Lisbuth  hadn't  dared  her  to, 
an'  she  ain't  mad  with  you,  cos  she's  up-staira  cryin* 
'bout  it  now.  It's  all  that  old  'Lisbuth,  an'  she's  pul- 
lin'  wool  over  your  eyes,  makin'  b'leeve  she's  so  good  an* 
nice.  Jest  feel  o'  my  ears,  an'  see  how  sore  they  be 
where  she  snapped  'em.  She  haint  no  more  feelin's 
than  a  camel.*'  An',  sez  he,  all  of  a  twitter,  "  Be  you 
sure  Sophy  haint  mad  with  me?"  An',  sez  I,  "Of 
coui'se  I  be.  She  jest  the  same's  sed  so,  when  she  was  a 
puttin'  on  the  arniky."  An'  sez  he,  "  I  wisht  I  could 
Bee  her."  An'  sez  I,  "  She's  goin'  to  walk  in  the  park 
this  afternoon."  An'  sez  he,  "I'll  be  there,  but  dont 
you  teil  her,  or  maybe  she  wouldn't  come,"  an'  he  gave 
me  two  shillin's,  an'  I  bo't  some  lick'rish  an'  some  gum, 
an'  a  hull  lot  o'  candy. 

Tlie  nex'  day  Sophy,  she  went  a  waLkiu'  m  the  park» 


THE   BOY'S   STORY.  55 

an*  Henry,  he  come,  an'  she  got  pale  ;  but  he  sed  some» 
thin",  an'  she  wa'u't  pale  no  more,  only  red,  an'  they 
went  off,  an'  I  had  a  good  time  a  plaguin'  the  geese  on 
the  pond.  Jimmy  Jones  an'  me,  we  tied  a  cracker  onto 
a  string,  an'  throwed  it  to  the  goose,  an'  he  up  an'  swal- 
lered  it  like  a  hog,  an'  we  pulled  on  the  string,  and 
dragged  him  right  up  to  the  shore.  An'  Jimmy,  he  sed 
the  goose  couldn't  let  up  on  the  cracker,  cos  'twaa 
hitched  agin  his  gizzard.  Gooses  has  their  gizzards  up 
In  their  throats,  cos  they  make  their  vittels  taste  good. 

AVheu  Sophy  an'  Henry  came  back,  they  lookt  awful 
happy,  an'  he  kist  me,  an'  sed  I  was  goin'  to  be  his 
littel  brother,  an'  I  askt  Sophy  if  that  was  so,  an'  she 
6aid  she  s' posed  it  was,  an'  as  how  mebbe  'twouldn't  a 
ben  so  ef  it  hadn't  ben  for  me,  an'  then  she  kist  me,  an* 
he  kist  her,  an'  I  sed  I'd  run  home,  cos  I  wanted  to  tell 
'Lisbuth,  an'  I  got  sick  o'  so  much  kissin'.  'Lisbuth, 
she  was  in  the  parlor,  an'  I  went  in  an'  I  sed,  "I'm  a 
goin'  to  have  a  new  brother ;"  an'  she  sez,  "  What  on 
earth  does  the  young  one  mean  now  ?"  An'  I  sez,  "  It's 
Henry  ;  he  an'  Sophy's  made  up,  an'  they  wouldn't  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  me,  an'  I  told  him  how  you  snapped 
me,  an'  he  gave  me  two  shillin's."  Then  she  lookt  out, 
an'  see  Henry  an'  Sophy  a  comin'  up  the  path  awful 
lovin',  a  tryin'  as  if  they  was  goin'  to  crowd  each  other 
off'n  the  walk,  they  was  that  clost.  An'  she  was  jest 
bilin',  she  was  so  mad.  "  You  little  wretch,"  she  said, 
an'  she  grabbed  me,  an'  she  snapped  me  the  worst  I 
ever  see,  an'  my  ears,  they  swelled  up  awful,  and  waa 
black  and  blue.  But  I  didn't  care  so  much,  cos  it  did 
ice  good  to  see  her  so  mad.  I  laffed  once,  an'  I  would 
more,  if  she  hadn't  snapi)ed  so. 

Jinuiiy  Jones,  he  read  in  a  book  'bout  a  man,  he  waa 


66  8POOPENDYKE   STOPS   SMOKING. 

a  travelin',  an'  a  worm,  he  kep'  a  gittin'  in  his  way,  an 
byme-by  the  man,  he  stept  on  him,  an'  the  worm,  sez 
he,  "  Look  here,  now,  don't  you  do  that  agin."  But  the 
man,  he  did,  an'  the  worm  up  an'  bit  him,  an'  the  man 
swelled  up  an'  died.  That  was  the  way  with  me  an' 
'Lisbuth. 

Boys  can't  stan'  everything.  Folks  haint  no  bisneas 
to  snap  their  ears  cos  they're  big.  I'll  bet  she  wishes 
as  how  she  hadn't  snapped  me  so  much  now.  I  know 
eomethin'  more  'bout  her,  an'  I'll  tell  of  it,  if  she  snaps 
me  agin,  see  if  I  don't.  E.  E.  Rexford. 


SPOOPENDYKE  STOPS  SMOKING. 


"  IV/TY  dear,"  said  Mr.  Spoopendyke,  rumpling  his  hufr 
JLuL  around  over  his  head  and  gazing  at  himself  In 
the  glass,  "  my  dear,  do  you  know  I  think  I  smoke  toe 
much  ?     It  doesn't  agree  with  me." 

"  Just  what  I  have  always  thought !"  chimed  Mrs. 
Spoopendyke,  "  and  besides,  it  makes  the  room  smell  so. 
You  know  this  room " 

"  I'm  not  talking  about  the  room,"  retorted  Mr. 
Spoopendyke,  with  a  snort.  "  I'm  not  aware  that  it 
atFects  the  health  of  the  room.  I'm  talking  about  my 
health  this  trip,  and  I  think  I'll  break  off  short.  You 
don't  catch  me  smoking  any  more,"  and  Mr.  Spoopen- 
dyke yawned  and  stretched  himself,  and  plumped  down 
in  his  easy  chair,  and  glared  out  the  window  at  the  rain. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  break  off?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Spoopendyke,  drawing  up  her  sewing-chair,  and  gazing 
up  into  her  husband's  face  admiringly.  "  I  suppose 
«he  best  way  is  not  to  think  of  it  at  all." 


8POOPEXDYKE  STOPS   SMOKING.  57 

"TJie  best  way  is  for  you  to  sit  there  and  cackle 
•bout  it !"  growled  Mr.  Hpoopendyke.  "  If  anything 
will  distract  my  attention  from  it  that  will.  Can't  ye 
think  of  something  else  to  talk  about  ?  Don't  ye  know 
some  subjects  that  don't  smell  like  a  tobacco  planta- 
tion ?" 

"  Certainly,"  cooed  Mrs.  Spoopendyke,  rather  non- 
plussed. "  We  might  talk  about  the  rain.  I  suppose 
this  is  really  the  equinox.  How  long  will  it  List,  dear  ?" 

"  Gast  the  equinox !"  sputtered  Mr.  Spoopendyke. 
"  Don't  you  know  that  when  a  man  quits  smoking  it 
depresses  him  ?  What  d'ye  want  to  talk  about  depress- 
ing things  for  ?  Now's  the  time  to  make  me  cheerful. 
If  ye  don't  know  any  cheerful  things,  keep  quiet." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Mrs.  Spoopendyke,  "  you  want 
subjects  that  will  draw'  your  mind  away  from  the  habit 
of  smoking  like  you  used  to.  Won't  it  be  nice  when 
the  long  winter  evenings  come,  and  the  fire  is  lighted, 
and  you  have  your  slippers  and  paper " 

"  That's  just  the  time  I  want  a  cigar !"  roared  Mr. 
Spoopendyke,  bounding  around  in  his  chair  and  scowl- 
ing at  his  wife.  "  Aint  ye  got  sense  enough  to  shingle 
your  tongue  for  a  minute?  The  way  you're  keeping  it 
up  you'll  drive  me  back  to  my  habit  in  less'n  an  hour," 
he  continued,  solemnly,  "  and  then  my  blood  will  be  on 
your  head  !" 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Mrs.  Spoopendyke,  "I  didn't 
mean  to.  Did  you  notice  about  the  comet  ?  They  say 
it  is  going  to  drop  into  the  sun  and  bum  up " 

"  There  ye  go  again !"  yelled  Mr.  Sjjoopendyke. 
**  You  can't  open  your  mouth  without  suggesting  some* 
thing  that  breaks  mo  down  !  What  d'ye  want  to  talk 
about  fire   for  'i     Who   wants  lire  when  he's  stopped 


58  SPOOPENDYKE  STOPS  SMOKING. 

smoking  ?  Two  minutes  more  and  I'll  have  a  pipe  la 
my  mouth  !"  and  Mr.  Spoopendyke  groaned  dismally  in 
oontemplatiou  of  the  prospect. 

"  I'm  glad  you're  going  to  stay  at  home  to-day,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Spoopendyke,  soothingly.  "  You'd  be  sure 
to  catch  cold  if  you  went  out ;  and  by  and  by  we'll 
have  a  piping  hot  dinner " 

"That's  it!"  squealed  Mr.  Spoopendyke,  bounding 
out  of  his  chair  and  plunging  around  the  room.  "  You  d 
got  to  say  something  about  a  pipe  !  I  knew  how  .t 
would  be !  You  want  me  to  die !  You  want  me  to 
smoke  myself  into  an  early  grave  !  You'll  fetch  it ! 
Don't  give  yourself  any  uneasiness !  You're  on  the 
track !"  and  Mr.  Spoopendyke  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  shook  convulsively. 

"  I  meant  it  for  the  best,  my  dear,"  murmured  Mrsi 
Spoopendyke.     "  I  thought  I  was  drawing " 

"That's  it!"  ripped  Mr.  Spoopendyke.  "Drawing! 
You've  driven  me  to  it  instead  of  keeping  me  from  il. 
You  know  how  it's  done  !  All  you  need  now  is  a  light- 
ning rod  and  a  dish  of  milk  toast  to  be  an  inebriates' 
home !  Where's  that  cigar  I  left  here  on  the  mantel  ? 
Gimme  my  death  warrant!  Show  me  my  imported 
doom !  Drag  forth  ray  miniature  coffin !"  and  Mr. 
Spoopendyke  swept  the  contents  of  the  shelf  upon  the 
floor  and  howled  dismally. 

"Isn't  that  it?"  asked  Mra.  Spoopendyke,  point- 
ing  to  a  small  pile  of  snuff  on  the  chair  in  which 
Mr.  Spodpendyke  had  been  sitting,  "  That  looks 
like  it." 

"  Wah !"  yelled  Mr.  Spoopendyke,  grasping  his  hat 
■nd  making  for  the  door.  "  Another  time  I  swear  off 
you  go  into  the  country,  you  hear  ?"  and  Mr.  Spoopen- 


WHAT   TUK   CHOIR   3ANG.  5S 

dyke  da«hed  out  ot'  the  house  and  steered  fur  the  nearest 
tobacco  sho]x 

"  I  don't  care,"  muttered  Mrs.  Spoopendyke ;  "  when 
he  swears  off  again  I'm  willing  to  leave,  and  in  the 
meantime  I  suppose  he'll  be  healthier  without  his  pipe, 
so  I'll  hang  it  up  on  the  wall  where  he'll  never  think  of 
looking  for  it,"  and  having  consigned  the  tobacco  to 
the  flames,  Mi-s.  Spoopendyke  gathered  her  sewing- 
materials  around  her  and  double  clinched  an  old  resolu- 
tion never  to  lose  her  temper,  no  matter  what  happened. 
- — Brooklyn  Eagle. 


WHAT  THE  CHOIR  SANG  ABOUT  THE  NEW 
BONNET. 


A  FOOLISH  little  maiden    bought   a  foolish  little 
bonnet, 
^Vith  a  ribbon,  and  a  feather,  and  a  bit  of  lace  upon 

it; 
And  that  the  other  maidens  of  the  little  town  might 

know  it. 
She  thought  she'd  go  to  meeting  the  next  Sunday  just 

to  show  it. 

But  though  the  little  bonnet  was  scarce  larger  than  a 

dime, 
The   getting   of   it   settled   proved   to   be   a   work   of 

time  ; 
60  when  'twiu3  fairly  tied,  all  the  Ijells  hud  stopped  their 

ringing, 
And  when  she  came  to  meeting,  sure  enough  the  fulka 

were  singing. 


60  WHAT   THE   CHOIR   SANG. 

So  tliis  foolish  little  mniden  stood  and   waited  at  the 

door ; 
And  she  shook  her  ruffles  out  behind  and  smoothed 

them  down  before. 
"  Hallelujah !    hallelujah !"  sang  the  choir  above  her 

head. 
•'  Hardly   knew   you !   hardly   knew   you  I"   were    the 

words  she  thought  they  said. 

This  made  the  little  maiden  feel  so  very,  very  cross, 
That  she  gave  her  little  mouth  a  twist,  her  little  head  a 

toss ; 
For  she  thought  the  vei'y  hymn  they  sang  was  all  about 

her  bonnet, 
With  the  ribbon,  and  the  feather,  and  the  ])it  of  lace 

upon  it. 

And  she  would  not  wah  to  listen  to  the  sermon  or  th? 

prayer, 
But  pattered  down  the  silent  street,  and  hurried  ix])  the 

stair. 
Till  she  reached  her  little  bureau,  and  in  a  band-box  on 

it, 
Had  hidden,  safe  from  critics'  eye,  her  foolish  little 
bonnet. 

Which  proves,  my  little  maidens,  that  each  of  you  will 

find 
In  every  Sabbath  service  but  an  echo  of  your  mind  ; 
And  the  silly  little  head,  that's  filled  with  silly  little 

airs, 
Will  never  get  a  blessing  from  sermon  or  from  prayera. 

M.  T.  MoKEisoN. 


THE  MIUISTEB's   GRIEVAKCES  f& 

THE  MINISTER'S  GRIEVANCES. 


*T)RETHREN,"  said  the  aged  minister,  as  he  stood 
-L'  up  before  the  church  meeting  on  New  Year's 
Eve,  "  I  am  afraid  we  will  have  to  part.  I  have  ia'oored 
among  you  now  for  fifteen  years,  and  I  feel  that  that  is 
almost  enough,  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  in 
which  I  am  placed.  Not  that  I  am  exactly  dissatisfied ; 
but  a  clergyman  who  has  been  preaching  to  sinners  for 
fifteen  years  for  five  hundred  dollars  a  year,  naturally 
feels  that  he  is  not  doing  a  great  work  when  Deacon 
Jones,  acting  as  an  oflicer  of  the  church,  pays  his  last 
quarter's  salary  in  a  promissory  note  at  six  months,  and 
then,  acting  as  an  individual,  oflfei-s  to  discount  it  for 
him  at  ten  per  cent,  if  he  will  take  it  part  out  in  clover- 
seed  and  pumpkins. 

"  I  feel  somehow  as  if  it  would  take  about  eighty- 
four  years  of  severe  preaching  to  prepare  the  Deacon 
for  existence  in  a  felicitous  hereafter.  Let  me  say, 
also,  that  while  I  am  deeply  grateful  to  the  congrega- 
tion for  the  donation  party  they  gave  me  on  Christmas, 
I  have  calculated  that  it  would  be  far  more  profitable 
for  me  to  shut  my  house  and  take  to  the  woods  than 
endure  another  one.  I  will  not  refer  to  the  impulsive 
generosity  which  persuaded  Sister  Potter  to  come  with 
a  prcvsent  of  eight  clothes  pins ;  I  will  not  insinuate 
anything  against  Brother  Ferguson,  who  brought  with 
him  a  quarter  of  a  peck  of  dried  apples  of  the  crop  of 
1872;  I  shall  not  allude  to  the  benevolence  of  Sister 
Tynhirst,  who  came  with  a  pen  wiper  and  a  tin  liorse 
for  the  baby;  I  shall  refrain  from  commontin.':  upon 
the  impression  made  by  Brother  Hill,  who  brought  four 


■K  IHE   minister's   GRIEVANCES 

pliosphorescent  mackerel,  possibly  with  an  idea  thai 
they  might  be  useful  iu  dissipating  the  gloom  in  my 
cellar.  I  omit  refereuce  to  Deacon  Jones'  present  of  an 
elbow  of  stove-pipe  and  a  bundle  of  toothpicks,  and  I 
admit  that  when  Sister  Peabody  brought  me  sweetened 
sausage  meat-  and  salted  and  peppered  mince-meat  foi 
pies,  she  did  right  in  not  forcing  her  own  family  to  suf- 
fer from  her  mistake  iu  mixbig  the  material.  But  I  do 
think  I  may  fairly  remark  respecting  the  case  of  Sister 
Wakii^.gham,  that  after  careful  thought  I  am  unable  to 
perceive  how  she  considered  that  a  present  of  a  box  of 
hair-pins  to  my  wife  justified  her  in  consuming  half  of  a 
pumpkin  pie,  six  buttered  muffins,  two  platefuls  of  oys- 
tere,  and  a  Ii'.rge  variety  oi*"  miscellaneous  food,  previous 
to  jamming  hei-self  full  of  preserves,  and  proceeding  to 
the  parlor  to  join  in  singing  '  There  is  rest  for  the  weary !' 
Such  a  destruction  of  the  necessaries  of  life  doubtless 
contributes  admirably  to  the  stimulation  of  commerce, 
but  it  is  far  too  large  a  commercial  operation  to  rest 
solely  upon  the  basis  of  a  ten-cent  box  of  hair-pins, 

"As  for  matters  in  the  church,  I  do  not  care  to  dis- 
cuss them  at  length.  I  might  say  much  about  the 
manner  in  which  the  congregation  were  asked  to  con- 
tribute clothing  to  our  mission  in  Senegambia ;  we 
received  nothing  but  four  neck-ties  and  a  brass  breast- 
pin, excepting  a  second-hand  carriage-whip  that  Deacon 
Jones  gave  us.  I  might  allude  to  the  frivolous  manner 
In  which  Brother  Atkinson,  our  tenor,  converses  with 
Bistei  Priestly,  our  soprano,  during  my  sermons,  and 
last  Sunday  kissed  her  when  he  thought  I  was  not  look 
ing ;  I  might  allude  to  the  absent-mindedness  which 
has  permitted  Brother  Brown  twice  lately  to  put  half  a 
dollar  on  the  collection-plate  and  take  off  two  quartern 


ENGAGED,  6S 

and  a  ten-cent  piece  in  change ;  and  I  might  dwell  upon 
the  circumstance  that  while  Brother  Toombs,  the  under- 
taker, sings  '  I  would  not  live  always,'  with  professional 
enthusiasm  that  is  pardonable,  I  do  not  see  why  he 
should  throw  such  unction  into  the  hymn,  '  I  am  un- 
worthy though  I  give  my  all,'  when  he  is  in  arrears  for 
two  years'  pew-rent,  and  is  always  busy  examining  the 
carpet-pattern  when  the  plate  goes  round.     I  alst) — " 

But  here  Butler  Toombs  turned  off  the  ga.s  suddenly, 
and  the  meeting  adjourned  full  of  indignation  at  the 
good  pastor.    His  resignation  was  accepted  unanimously. 

Max  Adeler. 


ENGAGED. 


I'VE  sat  at  her  feet  by  the  hour 
In  the  properly  worshipful  way  ; 
I've  carried  her  many  a  flower ; 
I've  read  to  her  many  a  lay  ; 
Social  battles  with  friend  and  with  lovef 

For  her  sake  I  often  have  waged  ; 
And  now,  from  her  lips,  I  discover 
That  she — oh  !  tliat  she  is  engaged. 

One  season  we  led  in  the  German, 

And  one  we  were  partners  at  whist, 
On  Sundays  we  heard  the  same  sermon, 

The  opera  never  once  missed  ; 
We  were  generally  winners  at  tennis. 

Our  skill  at  the  target  was  gauged, 
But  a  difference  between  now  and  then  is, 

For  now  she — for  now  she's  engaged. 


64  ENGAGED. 

I  have  carried  a  parasol  o'er  her, 

When  Ave  strolled  in  the  deep-shaded  groTCy 
Whole  minutes  I've  dallied  before  her, 

Assisting  to  button  her  glove ; 
As  she  sprang  to  the  saddle  my  lingers 

Her  wee  foot  a  moment  have  caged, 
And  the  thrill  in  my  pulses  still  lingers 

Though  now  she— though  now  she's  engaged. 

Does  she  ever  live  over,  I  wonder, 

The  night  that  we  sat  in  the  cove, 
One  shawl  wrapped  about  us,  while  thunder 

And  windstorms  and  hail  raged  above  ? 
How,  trembling,  she  hid  her  white  face  on 

My  shoulder,  and  how  I  assuaged 
Her  fears  by  the  story  of  Jason — 

Does  she  think  of  all  that  when  engaged? 

On  my  walls  hang  her  many  mementos ; 

That  cathedral  she  sketched  me  in  Rome; 
It  was  after  my  camp-life  she  sent  those 

Silk  slippers  to  welcome  me  home  ; 
I've  the  letters  she  wrote  me  at  college 

In  a  book  all  assorted  and  paged — 
How  delightful  to  read  with  the  knowledge 

That  now  she — yes— now  she's  engaged. 

1  am  going  to  call  there  to-morrow  ; 

In  her  joy  she  will  greet  her  old  friend 
Without  even  a  shadow  of  sorrow 

That  the  friendship  has  come  to  an  end  : 
And  close  in  my  arms  I  will  fold  her, 

No  matter  for  papa  enraged, 
Shall  his  wrath  from  me  longer  withhold  her 

When  to  me — 'tis  to  me  she's  engaged  ? 


MRS.   MIDDLERIB's   LETTER.  61 

MRS.   MIDDLERIB'S   LETTER. 


The  usual  way  in  which  a  woman  exasperates  her  loving  and  long- 
suffering  husband. 

MR.  MIDDLERIB  paused  with  his  coflee-cup  raised 
half  way  to  his  lips,  as  his  wife  took  the  letter 
from  the  servant.  She  turned  it  over  once  or  twice, 
gazed  earnestly  at  the  address,  and  said : 

"  I  wonder  who  it  can  be  from  ?" 

She  looked  at  the  stamp,  but  the  picture  of  the  good 
George  Washington,  his  visage  sadly  marred  by  the 
rude  impress  of  the  canceling  stani}>,  made  no  sign. 

"  I  can't  make  out  the  postmark,"  Mrs.  Middlerib 
said,  carefully  studying  that  guide  to  the  authorship  of 
letters.  "  It  isn't  Perryville  ;  it  looks  something  like 
Tonawanda,  but  I  don't  know  anybody  in  Tona- 
wanda.  I  wonder  if  it  isn't  intended  for  York? 
Cousin  Hiley  Ann  Jackson  used  to  visit  in  York.  Why 
don't  they  make  the  postmarks  plainer,  I  wonder?  I 
believe  it's  Indianapolis,  after  all.  Then  it's  from 
Eleanor  McPherson,  whose  husband  you  met  last  sum- 
mer in  Canada.  It  isn't  Indianapolis,  it's  Lacon  ;  that's 
where  Silas  Marshall  lives.  That  isn't  an  L,  either. 
No,  it's  New  Philadelphia,  111. ;  I  can  make  it  out  now ; 
don't  you  remember !  Uncle  Abner  Beasix  went  out 
there  in  the  grindstone  business.  I  wonder  if  anything 
has — oh,  pshaw !  it  isn't  New  Philadelphia,  either,  it's — 
what  is  it?  It's  R;  R-o-m — oh,  now  I  .see,  R-o-m-e, 
Rome.  Why  it  must  be  from — oh  dear  me,  it  isn't 
Rome,  either.     I  can't  make  it  out  at  all." 

And  she  turned  it  over  and  looked  mournfully  at  the 
pftcciving  stamp  on  the  back. 
6 


$8  MRS.  middlerib's  letter. 

"  It  was  received  here  at  seven  o'clock  this  morning," 
she  said,  finally.  "  Now,  where  would  a  letter  have  to 
come  from  to  g<?t  here  at  seven  o'clock  ?  If  you  kne-w 
that,  we  couid  tell  where  it  came  from." 

"  Let  me  look  at  it,"  said  Mr.  Middlorib,  who  wa? 
beginning  to  fidget  with  impatience. 

"  No,"  replied  his  wife,  turning  back  to  the  postmark 
once  more.  "  I  can  see  what  it  is  now.  It's  Spartans- 
burg,  Ky.  Sarah  Blanchard  went  there  after  she  mar- 
ried. I  expect  she  wants  to — it  isn't  Spartansburg, 
either,  it's  Gridley ;  that's  where  cousin  Jennie  Bus- 
kirk  lives  ;  her  husband  went  there  and  bought  a  grist- 
mill. I  wonder  if  she's  coming  out  this  summer?  I 
hope  if  she  does  she  won't  bring  the  children.  But  it 
isn't  from  her,  either.  I  think  that  it  is  Mount  Pleasant. 
Oh!  It's  from  Aunt  B'arriet  Murdock,  and  I  know 
they've  all  been  killed,  and  that  dreadful  cyclone !  I 
can't  open  the  letter,  my  hand  trembles  so.  Do  you 
know,  the  last  thing  I  said  to  her  when  she  moved  out 
West,  I  said — it  isn't  Mount  Pleasant,  either,  there  are 
only  five  letters  in  it.  I  can't  make  anything  out  of 
it." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Middlerib,  with  a  slight  tinge  of 
sarcasm  in  his  inflection,  "perhaps  we'd  better  send 
after  the  carrier  who  brought  it.     He  may  know." 

"  But  it  is  so  tantalizing,"  complained  Mrs.  Middle- 
rib,  "  to  receive  a  letter,  and  then  not  be  able  to  tell 
who  or  where  it  is  from." 

"  Did  you  ever  try  opening  a  letter  to  ascertain  those 
facts  ?"  asked  her  husband. 

The  lady  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  speech* 
less  disdain  upon  her  features,  and  half  whispered,  "  li 
that  iga\  Jike   a   man,"  as   though   any  woman   ever 


MRS.  middlkrir's  letter.  87 

/ooked  iuto  a  letter  until  she  had  guessed  all  around 
her  circle  of  relatives  and  friend?  and  clear  through 
the  United  States  postal  guide,  to  decide  whence  and 
from  whom  it  came. 

This  particular  postmark,  however,  wa.s  too  "  blind  " 
for  the  most  ingenious  expert  to  decipher,  and  at  last, 
with  a  deep  sigh  and  a  little  gesture  of  despair,  Mi*s. 
iMiddlerib  yielded  to  the  inevitable,  and  resignedly- 
opened  the  letter,  pausing  once  or  twice  in  the  act,  how- 
ever, to  look  longingly  back  at  the  tantalizing  post- 
mark. 

"  At  last,"  groaned  her  husband,  who  by  this  timfl 
was  burning  up  with  curiosity. 

But  she  laid  aside  the  envelope  and  looked  at  it  a 
little  while  before  she  turned  to  the  unfolded  letter  in 
her  hand.  Her  husband,  by  a  desperate  effort,  controlled 
his  rising  wrath,  and,'' in  a  voice  hoarse  and  strained, 
besought  her  to  read  the  letter,  as  it  was  late  and  he 
should  have  been  down  town  half  an  hour  ago. 

She  did  not  answer.  She  opened  the  letter,  turned 
the  first  page  to  look  for  the  end  of  it,  went  back  to  the 
first  page,  settled  herself  in  an  easy  position,  and  said  : 

"  Well,  I  will  declare !" 

Then  she  read  on  in  silence,  and  Mr.  Middlerib 
ground  his  teeth.     Presently  she  said : 

"  H'm." 

She  read  three  or  four  more  lines  with  eager  eyes  and 
noiseless  lips,  and  suddenly  exclaimed : 

"  I  don't  believe  it !" 

Then  she  rasumed  her  voiceless  perusal  of  the  docu« 
ment,  and  a  moment  later  astonished  her  husband  by 
looking  11  J)  at  him  and  avsking: 

"  I  wonder  if  that  is  so  ?" 


68  MRS.    MTDDLERIB'8   LETTER. 

Mr,  Middlerib  replied  in  mocking  tones  that  it  mual 
be  or  the  postmark  wouldn't  have  said  so,  but  her  eyes 
were  glued  to  the  page  once  more,  and  ghe  made  no 
response. 

"  Oh  ;"  she  fairl}-  shrieked,  "  did  you  ever?" 

The  writhing  man  at  the  other  end  of  the  table  said 
he  never  had,  but  he  would  if  this  intellectual  enter- 
tainment lasted  much  longer. 

*•    "  It's  too  bad,"  murmured  Mrs.  Middlerib,  turning  a 
page  cf  the  letter  without  raising  her  ey&s. 

"  Well,  what's  too  bad  ?"  he  broke  out  wrathfully. 
"  Who  is  tlie  letter  from  and  what  is  it  all  about  ? 
Either  read  aloud  or  make  your  comments  as  mentally 
aa  you  read.' 

"  I've  half  a  mind  to  go,"  she  said,  in  firm,  decided 
tones. 

"  Oh,  have  you  ?"  he  interjected,  with  mild  sarcasm, 
"shall  I  go  pack  your  tranks  while  you  finish  that 
letter?" 

"I  don't  see  how  they  can  do  it,"  she  said,  after  an 
interval  of  silence. 

"Why  don't  you  look  at  the  postmark,  then?"  he 
growled,  "  maybe  that  would  tell  you." 

She  read  on,  silent  and  unimpressed,  for  two  or  three 
lines  further,  and  then  with  an  exclamation  of  astonish- 
ment, said  : 

"  How  very  low !" 

"Ah,  well,"  her  husband  snarled,  "  I'm  glad  to  learn 
gomething  about  that  letter  at  last.  It's  about  your 
Uncle  Marcus's  family,  isn't  it?" 

She  did  not  hear  nor  heed.  She  glued  her  eyes  to 
that  precious  letter,  and  went  on  ejaculating  at  irregula? 
Intervala : 


MRS.    MIDDLERIB3   LETTBa.  6S 

«  H'm." 

"Oh,  thai  must  be  lovely'" 

"  It  can't  be  the  same." 

"  I  never  beard  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness  I" 

Until  her  husband  was  fairly  frantic  with  curiosity. 
Finally  she  ooucluded  the  perusal  of  the  important 
document,  sighed,  and  with  profound  and  exasperating 
deliberation  folded  it  carefully  and  replaced  it  in  the 
envelope. 

Mr.  Middlcrlb  looked  at  her  in  blank  aimueinent. 

"  Well,  by  George  !"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  cool  one. 
Here  I've  waited  full  fifteen  minutes  to  learn  what  that 
blessed  letter  is  about,  and  all  I  know  about  it  is  that 
you  couldn't  make  out  the  postmark.  By  George, 
woman " 

"Why,  whatever  is  the  matter  with  you?"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  feigned  surprise.  "  Here  it  is,  if  you 
want  to  see  it.     I  didn't  suppose  you  cared  to  hear  it." 

"  Didn't  want  to  hear  it  ?"  he  shouted.  "  What  do 
vou  suppose  I  waited  here  and  missed  my  train  for,  if  I 
didn't  want  to  hear  that  blessed  letter  ?" 

"  Why,  it  isn't  a  letter  at  all,"  she  said,  in  the  tone 
of  a  superior  being  commiserating  measureless  and  in- 
excusable ignorance;  "it  is  a  circular  from  Wachen- 
heimer's  about  their  millinery  o|xming  next  Thurs- 
day " 

The  bang  of  the  street  door  cut  off  the  rest  of  the 
sentence,  and  Mrs.  Middlerib  became  aware  that  she 
was  alone,  and  that  her  husband  wa.s  the  angriest  man 
in  the  State. 

"And  \shiit  had  occurred  to  vex  him,"  she  said  to 
her  neighbor,  who  dropped  in  during  the  morniag,  "  I 


ID  WHY   HE   WAITED   TO    LAUGH. 

oan't  for  the  life  of  me  imagine.  Everything  about  the 
houBC  had  gone  on  smoothly,  and  I  can't  recall  a  single 
irritating  incident  or  circumstance.  Men  are  strange 
animals,"  she  sighed,  "  and  there  is  no  accounting  for 
their  vagaries  and  peculiarities." — Burlingion  Hawkeye. 


POLONIUS  TO  LAERTES.—"  RENEWED." 

SHAKE Y,  take  a  fader's  plessing, 
Take  it,  for  you  get  it  sheap  • 
Go  in  hot  for  magin'  money, 

Go  in  und  mage  a  heap. 
Don'  you  do  no  ting-s  vots  grooked, 

Don'  you  do  no  tings  vots  mean — 
Aber,  rake  right  in  dot  boodle, 
Qviet,  calm,  und  all  serene. 

Don'  you  lend  your  gash  to  no  von — 

Not  for  less  dan  den  per  cend  ; 
Don'  you  make  no  vild  expenses, 

Dot's  de  vay  de  money  vent, 
Und  I  tells  you,  leedle  Shakey, 

Put  dis  varning  in  your  ear, 
Be  a  man  of  pizness  honor, 

Nefer  vale  but  tvice  a  year. 


WHY  HE  WAITED  TO  LAUGH. 


AT  mid-forenoon  yesterday,  a  man  who  was  crossing 
Woodward  Avenue  at  Congress  Street  suddenly 
began  to  paw  the  air  with  his  hands  and  perform  strane'e 
antics  with  his  feet,  and,  after  taking  plenty  of  time  about 
it,  he  came  down  in  a  heap.     More  than  fifty  people 


WHY   HE   WAITED   TO    LAUGH.  71 

saw  the  perforrimuce  and  there  was  a  general  laugh.  It 
had  not  ceased  when  a  man  with  a  funereal  countenance 
pushed  his  way  into  the  crowd  and  asked : 

"  Who  ifv  he — what's  his  name  ?" 

"  It's  Smiih,"  answered  a  voice. 

"  What  Smith  ?" 

"  Thomas  Smith." 

"  Suve  ?" 

"  Yes. ;  I've  known  him  for  over  twenty  years." 

"  The.!  I'll  Uugh,"  said  the  solemn-faced  man,  and  he 
leaned  a>,'ainst  the  wall  and  chuckled  and  laughed  until 
he  could  hardly  get  his  breath.  One  of  the  crowd  re- 
marked on  his  singular  conduct,  and  the  laugher 
wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes  and  replied : 

"  Gentlemen,  nothing  tickles  me  all  over  so  much  as 
to  see  a  man  fall  down.  Ten  yeai-s  ago  I  was  salesman 
in  a  wholesale  house,  with  a  fine  chance  for  promotion. 
One  day  a  man  just  ahead  of  me  fell  down,  and  I 
laughed.  It  w^as  our  old  man,  and  he  discharged  me  on 
the  spot.  Five  years  later  I  was  engaged  to  a  rich  girl. 
As  I  came  out  of  the  post-ofBce  one  day  a  man  sprawled 
out  on  the  walk,  and  I  laughed  till  I  was  sore.  It  was 
my  Angelina's  old  man,  and  he  broke  up  the  match. 
Again,  I  laughed  myself  out  of  a  position  in  a  bank, 
and  but  for  the  same  failure  I  should  to-day  have  a 
place  in  the  Custom-House.  I  have  learned  wisdom. 
Now,  when  I  see  a  man  fall  I  ask  his  name,  and  find 
out  if  he  has  any  influence  to  put  me  out  of  my  clerk- 
ship. If  he  has,  I  look  solemn  and  pass  on.  If  he 
hasn't,  I  la-laugh — ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Smith,  is  it  ?  Smith 
can't  do  any  harm,  and — ha !  ha  !  ha  !  I  wouldn't 
have  mi.'sed  this  for  a  month's  sal — ha !  ha  !  ha !" — 
Detroit  Free  Press. 


XJ  A  SCHOOL-DAY. 


A  SCHOOL-DAY. 


"■vroW  John,"  the  district  teacher  says, 

iM      With  frown  that  scarce  can  hide 
The  dimpling  smiles  around  her  mouth, 

Where  Cupid's  hosts  abide, 
"  What  have  you  done  to  .Mary  Ann, 

That  she  is  crying  so  ? 
Don't  say  'twas  '  nothing  '—don't,  I  say, 

For  John  that  can't  be  so  ; 

"  For  ]\Iary  Ann  would  never  cry 

At  nothing,  I  am  sure  ; 
And  if  you've  wounded  justice,  John, 

You  know  the  only  cure 
Is  punishment ;  so  come,  stand  up  ; 

Transgression  must  abide 
The  pain  attendant  on  the  scheme 

That  makes  it  justified." 

So  John  steps  forth,  with  sunburnt  face. 

And  hair  all  in  a  tumble. 
His  laughing  eyes  a  contrast  to 

His  drooping  mouth  so  humble. 
**  Now  Mary,  you  must  tell  me  all — 

I  see  that  John  ^v\\\  not — 
And  if  he's  been  unkind  or  rude, 

I'll  whip  him  on  the  spot." 

"  W-we  were  p-playing  p-prisoner's  b-base. 

An'  h-he  is  s-such  a  t-tease, 
An'  w-when  I  w-wasn't  1-lookin',  m-ma'am, 

H-he  k-kissed  me,  if  you  please." 


A   8CHOOL-DAY.  78 

Upon  the  teacher's  face  the  smiles 

Have  triumphed  o'er  the  fi'own, 
A  pleasiuit  thought  runs  through  her  mind  ; 

The  stick  comes  harmless  down. 

But  outraged  law  must  be  avenged ; 

Begone,  ye  smiles,  begone  ! 
Away,  ye  little  dreams  of  love, 

Come  on,  ye  frowns,  come  on ! 
"  I  think  I'll  have  to  whip  you,  John, 

Such  conduct  breaks  the  rule  • 
No  boy,  except  a  naughty  one, 

Would  kiss  a  girl — at  school." 

Again  the  teacher's  rod  is  raised — 

A  Nemesis  she  stands — 
A  premium  were  put  on  sin 

If  punished  by  such  hands  ! 
As  when  the  bee  explores  the  rose 

We  see  the  petals  tremble. 
So  trembled  jVIary's  rosebud  lips— 

Her  heart  would  not  dissemble. 

"  I  wouldn't  whip  him  very  hard — " 

The  stick  stops  in  its  fall — 
"  It  wasn't  right  to  do  it,  but — 

It  didn't  hurt  at  all!" 
••  What  made  you  cry,  then,  Mary  Ann?" 

The  school's  noise  makes  a  pause, 
And  out  upon  the  listening  air 

From  Mary  comes—"  Because  "  ! 

Will  F.  McSfarra». 


74  DOT   LEEDLE   LOWEEZA. 

DOT  LEEDLE    LOWEEZA. 


HOW  dear  to  dis  heart  vas  my  grandchild  Loweeza, 
Dot  shweet  leedle  taughter  of  Yawcob,  mine  son  I 
I  neler  vas  tired  to  hug  and  to  sliqueeze  her 

Vhen  home  I  gets  back,  uud  der  day's  vork  vas  done; 
Vhen  I  vas  avay,  oh,  I  know  dot  she  miss  me. 

For  vhen  I  comes  homevards  she  rushes  bell-mell, 
Und  poots  oup  dot  shweet  leedle  mout  for  to  kiss  me — 
Her  "  darling  oldt  gampa,"  dot  she  lofe  so  veil. 

Katrina,  mine  frau,  she  could  not  do  midoudt  her, 

She  vas  sooch  a  gomfort  to  her  day  py  day  ; 
Dot  shild  she  make  efry  one  habby  aboudt  her, 

Like  sunshine  she  drife  all  dheir  droubles  avay  ; 
She  holdt  der  vool  yarn  vile  Katrina  she  vind  it, 

She  pring  her  dot  cam  fire  bottle  to  shmell ; 
Bhe  fetch  me  mine  bipe,  too,  vhen  I  don'd  can  vind  it, 

Dot  plue-eyed  Loweeza  dot  lofe  me  so  veil. 

How  shweet  ven  der  toils  off  der  veek  vas  all  ofer, 

Und  Sunday  vas  come  mit  its  quiet  und  rest, 
To  valk  mit  dot  shild  'mong  der  daisies  und  clofer, 

Und  look  at  der  leedle  birds  building  dheir  nest ! 
Her  pright  leedle  eyes  how  dey  sbparkle  mit  bleasure-* 

Her  laugh  it  rings  oudt  shust  so  clear  as  a  bell ; 
I  dhink  dhere  vas  nopody  haf  sooch  a  treasure 

As  dot  shmall  Loweeza,  dot  lofe  me  so  veil. 

VTaen  winter  vas  come,  midt  it's  coldt,  shtormv  vedder, 

Katrina  und  I  musd  sit  in  der  house 
Und  dalk  of  der  bast,  by  der  fireside  togedder, 

Or  blay  mit  dot  taughter  off  our  Yawcob  Strauss. 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  A  REFRACTORY  COW.     75 

Oldt  age,  mit  its  \vriukles,  pegiiis  to  remind  us 
Ve  gaiinot  shtay  long  mit  our  shildren  to  dwell  ; 

Budt  soon  ve  shall  meet  mit  der  poys  left  pehind  us, 
Und  dot  shweet  Loweeza,  dot  lofe  us  so  veil. 

Charles  F.  Adams. 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  A  REFRACTORY  COW. 


WE  used  to  keep  a  cow  when  we  lived  in  the  country, 
and  sich  a  cow  !  Law  sakes  !  Why,  she  used  to 
come  to  be  milked  as  reg'lar  as  clock-work.  She'd 
knock  at  the  gate  with  her  horns,  jest  as  sensible  as  any 
otlier  human  critter. 

Her  name  was  Rose.  I  never  knowed  how  she  got. 
that  name,  for  she  was  black  as  a  kittle. 

Well,  one  day  Rose  got  sick,  and  wouldn't  eat  notk- 
ing,  poor  thing  !  and  a  day  or  so  arter  she  died.  I  raly 
do  believe  I  cried  when  that  poor  critter  was  gone. 
Well,  we  went  for  a  little  spell  without  a  cow,  but  I 
told  Mr.  Scruggins  it  wouldn't  do,  no  way  nor  no  how ; 
and  he  gin  in.  Whenever  I  said  must  Mr.  Scruggins 
knowed  I  meant  it.  Well,  a  few  days  arter,  he  come 
home  with  the  finest  cow  and  young  calf  you  ever  seed. 
He  gin  thirty  dolhu-s  for  her  and  the  calf,  and  two 
levies  to  a  man  to  help  bring  her  home.  Well,  they 
drove  her  into  the  back  yard,  and  Mr.  Scruggins  told 
me  to  come  out  and  see  lier,  and  I  did  ;  and  I  went  up 
to  her  jest  as  I  used  to  did  to  Rose,  and  when  I  said, 
"  Poor  Sukey,"  would  you  believe  it  ?  the  nasty  brute 
kicked  me  right  in  the  fore  part  of  my  back  ;  her  foot 
catched  into  my  dress — bran-new  dre.ss,  too — cost  two 
levies  a  yard,  and  she  took  a  levy's  worth  right  out  as 
clean  as  the  back  vt'  my  hand. 


76     EXPERIENCE  WITH  A  BEFBACTORY  COW. 

I  screeclied  right  out,  and  Mr.  Scruggius  kotciied  mo 
jest  as  I  was  droi)ping,  and  he  carried  me  to  the  door, 
and  I  went  in  and  sot  down.  I  felt  kind  o'  faintish,  I 
was  80  abominable  skeered. 

Mr.  Scruggins  said  he  would  larn  her  better  manners, 
so  lie  picked  up  the  poker  and  went  out ;  but  I.  had 
hardly  began  to  get  a  leetle  strengthened  up  afore  in 
rushed  my  dear  husband  a-Hourishing  the  poker,  and 
that  vicious  cow  arter  him  like  all  mad.  Mr.  Scrug- 
gius jumped  into  the  room,  and,  afore  he  had  time  to 
turn  round  and  shut  the  door,  that  desperate  brute  was 
in,  too. 

Mr.  Scruggins  got  up  on  the  diuiug-room  table,  and  X 
run  into  the  parlor.  I  thought  I'd  be  safe  there,  but  I 
was  skeered  so  bad  that  I  forgot  to  shut  the  door,  and 
sakes  alive  !  after  hooking  over  the  dining-room  table 
and  rolling  Mr.  Scruggins  off,  in  she  walked  into  the 
parlor,  shaking  her  head  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I'll  give 
you  a  touch  now."  I  jumped  on  a  chair,  but  thinking 
that  warn't  high  enough,  I  got  one  foot  on  the  brass 
knob  of  the  Franklin  stove,  and  put  the  other  on  the 
mantel-piece.  You  ought  to  ha'  seen  that  cow  in  our 
parlor  ;  she  looked  all  round  as  if  she  was  'mazed  ;  at 
last  she  looked  in  the  looking-glass,  and  thought  she 
seed  another  cow  exhibiting  anger  like  herself;  she 
shuck  her  head  and  pawed  the  carpet,  and  so  did  her 
reflection,  and — would  you  believe  it? — that  awful 
In-ute  went  right  into  my  looking-glass. 

Then  I  boo-hoo'd  right  out.  All  this  while  I  was 
getting  agonized  ;  the  brass  knob  on  the  stove  got  so 
hot  that  I  had  to  sit  on  the  narrer  mantel-piece  and 
hold  on  to  nothing.  I  dussent  move  for  fear  I'd  slip 
off. 


EXPERIEXCE  TVIXn   A    REFRACTORY   COW.  77 

Mr.  Scniggins  came  round  to  the  front  door,  but  it 
was  locked,  and  then  he  come  to  the  window  and 
0}iened  it.  I  jumped  down  and  run  for  the  window, 
and  hadn't  moi-e'n  got  my  head  out  afore  I  heard  that 
critter  a-coming  after  me.  Gracious !  but  I  was  in  a 
hurr}' ;  more  haste,  less  speed,  always  ;  for  the  more  T 
tried  to  climb  quick  the  longer  it  took,  and  just  as  I 
got  ready  to  jump  down,  that  brute  of  a  cow  kotched 
me  in  the  back  and  turned  me  over  and  over  out  of  the 
window. 

Well,  when  I  got  right  side  up,  I  looked  at  the  win- 
dow, and  there  stood  that  cow,  with  her  head  between 
the  white  and  red  curtains,  and  another  piece  of  my 
dress  dangling  on  her  horns. 

Well,  my  husband  and  me  was  jest  starting  for  the 
little  alley  that  runs  along-side  of  the  house,  when  the 
cow  give  a  bawl,  and  out  of  the  window  she  come, 
whisking  her  tail,  which  had  kotched  fire  on  the  Frank- 
lin stove,  and  it  served  her  right. 

Mr.  Scruggins  and  me  run  into  the  alley  in  such 
haste  we  got  wedged  fast.  Husband  tried  to  get  ahead, 
but  I'd  been  in  the  rear  long  enough,  and  I  wouldn't 
let  him.  That  dreadful  cow  no  sooner  seen  us  in  the 
alley  than  she  made  a  dash,  but,  thank  goodness  !  she 
stuck  fast,  too. 

Husband  tried  the  gate,  but  that  was  fast,  and  there 
wasn't  nobody  inside  the  house  to  open  it.  !Mr.  Scrug- 
gins wanted  to  climb  over  and  unbolt  it,  but  I  wouldn't 
let  him.  I  wasn't  going  to  be  left  alone  again,  with 
that  desperate  cow,  even  if  she  was  fast ;  so  I  made 
him  help  me  over  the  gate.  Oh,  dear,  climbing  a  high 
gate  when  you're  skeered  by  a  cow  is  a  dreadful  thing, 
and  I  know  it ! 


78  JEALOUSY    IN   THE   CHOIR. 

Well,  I  got  over,  let  husband  in,  and  then  it  tooV 
him  and  me  and  four  other  neighbors  to  get  that  drea<i« 
fill  critter  out  of  the  alley.  She  bellered  and  kicked, 
and  her  calf  bellered  to  her,  and  she  bawled  back 
again ;  but  we  got  her  out  at  last,  and  such  a  time  !  I'd 
had  enough  of  her ;  husband  sold  her  for  twenty  dol- 
lars next  day.  It  cost  him  seventy-five  cents  to  get  her 
to  market,  and  when  he  tried  to  pass  off  one  of  the  five  ■ 
dollar  bills  he  got,  it  turned  out  to  be  a  counterfeit. 

Mr.  Scruggins  said  to  his  dying  day  that  he  believei^ 
the  brother  of  the  man  that  sold  him  the  cow  bought  ii 
back  again.  I  believe  it  helped  to  worry  my  poor  hus- 
band into  his  grave.  Ah,  my  friends,  you  better  be- 
lieve I  know  what  a  cow  is. 


JEALOUSY  IN  THE  CHOIR. 


S' 


IILVERY  noted, 
Lily-throated, 
Starry-eyed  and  golden-haired, 
Charming  Anna, 
The  soprano, 
All  the  singers'  hearts  ensnared. 

Long  the  tenor 
Sought  to  win  her, 

Sought  to  win  her  for  his  bride ; 
And  the  basso 
Loved  the  lass  so, 

Day  and  night  for  her  he  sighed. 

The  demeanor 
Of  the  tenor 
To  the  basso  frigid  ^rew ; 


JEALOUSY    IN   THE   CHOIR.  78 

And  the  basso 
As  he  was  so 
Mashed,  of  course,  grew  frightened  toa 

Anna  smiled  on 

Both,  which  piled  on 
To  their  mutual  hatred  fuel ; 

So,  to  win  her, 

Bass  and  tenor 
Swore  they'd  fight  a  vocal  duel. 

Shrieked  the  tenor 

Like  a  Vennor 
Cyclone  howling  o'er  the  plain, 

Sang  so  high 

To  outvie 
The  bass,  he  split  his  head  in  twain. 

Growled  the  basso 

Till  he  was  so 
Low,  to  hear  him  was  a  treat ; 

Lower  still  he 

AVent  until  he 
Split  the  soles  of  both  his  feet. 

Charming  Anna, 

The  soprano. 
Mourned  a  Aveek  for  both  her  feliowg ; 

Then  she  wed  the 

Man  who  fed  the 
Wind  into  the  organ  bellows. 

— Lowell  New  Moon. 


THE    L0VEB8. 


HER   LOVERS. 


MY  first,  my  very  first,  his  name  was  Will — 
A  handsome  fellow  ;  fair,  with  curling  hair» 
And  lovely  eyes.     I  have  his  locket  still. 

He  went  to  Galveston  and  settled  there, 
At  least  I  heard  so.     Ah,  dear  me — dear  me ! 
How  terribly  in  love  he  used  to  be ! 

The  second,  Robert  Hill,  he  told  his  love 

The  first  night  that  we  met.     'Twas  at  a  ball — > 

A  foolish  boy.  He  carried  off  my  glove. 
We  sat  out  half  the  dances  in  the  hall, 

And  flirted  in  the  most  outrageous  way. 

Ah,  me  !  how  mother  scolded  all  next  day. 

The  third  woke  up  my  heart.     From  night  till  morn 
From  morn  till  night,  I  dreamed  of  him  ; 

I  treasured  up  a  rosebud  he  had  worn  ; 
My  tears  and  kisses  made  his  picture  dim. 

Strange  that  I  cannot  feel  the  old,  old  flame, 

When  I  remember  Paul — that  was  his  name. 

The  fourth  and  fifth  were  brothers — twins  at  that ; 

Good  fellows,  kind,  devoted,  clever,  too. 
'Twas  rather  shabby  to  refuse  them  flat — 

Both  in  one  day,  but  what  else  could  I  do  ? 
My  heart  was  still  with  Paul,  and  he  had  gone 
Yacht  sailing  with  the  Misses  Garretson  ! 

He  never  cared  for  me — I  found  that  out— 
Despite  the  foolish  clingings  of  my  hope  ; 

A  few  months  proved  it  clear  beyond  a  doubt. 
I  steeled  my  heart ;  I  would  not  pine  or  mope, 


OOKSOLATiON   EVEN    ON   A  MliED  IBAIS.  \ 

B'it  masked  myself  in  gaycty,  and  went 

To  grace  hi*  wedding  wlien  tlie  cards  were  sent. 

So  those  were  all  my  loves.     My  husband  1    Oh, 
I  met  him  down  in  Florida  one  fall — 

Rich,  middle-aged,  and  prosy,  as  you  know  i 
He  asked  me,  I  accepted ;  that  is  all. 

A  kind,  good  soul :   he  worships  me ;  but  then 

I  never  count  him  in  with  other  men. 

Bachelob  Bbk, 


CONSOLATION  EVEN  ON  A  IVIIXED  TRAIN 

ON  some  of  the  Western  roads  they  attach  a  passen- 
ger car  to  a  freight  train  and  call  it  "  mixed."  It 
bn't  in  the  order  of  tilings  that  such  trains  should 
travel  very  rapidly,  and  sometimes  there  is  considerable 
growling  among  the  "  traffic." 

"Are  we  most  there,  conductor?"  asked  a  nervous 
man,  for  the  hundredth  time.  "  Remember,  my  wife  ia 
sick  and  I'm  anxious." 

"  "We'll  get  there  on  time,"  replied  the  conductor, 
«tolidly. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  nervous  man  approached  him 
Again. 

"  I  guess  she's  dead  now,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "  but 
I'd  give  you  a  little  something  extra  if  you  could  man- 
»,o-e  to  catch  up  with  the  funeral.  ?»Iaybe  she  won't  bt 
»o  decomposed  but  what  T  would  recognize  her." 

The  conductor  growled  at  him,  and  the  man  sub- 
aided. 

"Conductor"  paid  he,  after  an  hour's  silence,  "  con* 
4notor,  if  the  wind  isn't  dead  ahead,  I  wish  you  wofold 

e 


b2  fats  rwEAso]^'. 

pat  on  some  steam.  I'd  like  to  see  where  my  wife  h 
buried  before  the  tombstone  crumbles  Ur  pieces  I  Put 
yourself  in  my  place  for  a  moment  1" 

The  conductor  shook  him  off,  and  the  man  relaptjed 
into  profound  melancholy. 

*'  I  say,  conductor,"  said  he,  after  a  long  pause,  "  I've 
got  a  note  coming  due  in  three  months.  Can't  you  fix 
it  so  as  to  rattle  along  a  little  i'" 

"  If  you  come  near  me  again  I'll  knock  you  do^vn  1" 
Bnorted  the  conductor,  savagely. 

The  nervous  man  regarded  him  sadly,  and  went  to 
his  seat.  Two  hours  later  the  conductor  saw  him  chat- 
ting gayly  and  laughing  heartily  with  a  brother  victim, 
and  approached  him. 

"  Don't  feel  so  badly  about  your  wife's  death  ?*' 

"  Time  heais  all  wounds,"  sighed  the  nervous  man. 

"  And  you  are  not  so  pai'ticular  about  the  note,*^ 
«neered  the  conductor. 

"Not  now.  That's  all  right.  Don't  worry.  I've 
been  figuring  up,  and  I  find  that  the  note  has  outlawed 
BJnce  I  spoke  to  you  last  I"— Traveler's  Magazine. 


PAT'S  REASON. 


NE  day,  in  a  crowded  Gates  Avenue  car, 

A  lady  was  standing.     tShe  had  ridden  quite  far» 
And  seemed  much  disposed  to  indulge  in  a  frown. 
As  nobody  offered  to  let  her  sit  down. 
And  many  there  sat  who,  to  judge  by  their  dress. 
Might  a  gentleman's  natural  instincts  possess, 
But  who,  judged  by  their  acts,  make  us  firmly  believs 
TfaaJt  appearances  often  will  sadly  deceive 


SA<31L   WHEKB    THEY    USEI/   TO   KK.  %% 

There  were  ?ome  most  intently  devouring  the  ne?m. 
And  some  thro'  the  windows  enjoying  the  viewK; 
And  othere  indulged  in  a  make-believe  nap — 
While  the  lady  still  stood  holding  on  by  the  strapw 
At  last  a  young  Irishman,  fresh  from  the  "  sod," 
Arose  with  a  smile  and  most  comical  nod, 
Wliich  said  quite  as  plain  as  in  words  could  be  stated 
Tliat  the  lady  should  sit  in  the  place  he'd  vacated. 
"  Excuse  me,"  said  Pat,  "  that  I  caused  you  to  wait 
So  long  before  offerin'  to  giv^e  you  a  sate, 
But  in  troth  I  was  only  just  Avaitin'  to  see 
If  there  wasn't  more  gintlemin  here  beside  me." 

— Brooklyn  Eagle, 

BACK  WHERE  THEY  USED  TO  BE. 

PAP'S  got  his  patent  right  and  rich  as  all  creation  ; 
But  where's  the  peace  and  comfort  that  we  all  had 
before  ? 
Le's  go  a-visitin'  back  to  Griggsby  Station — 
Back  where  we  used  to  be  so  happy  and  so  pore  I 

The  likes  of  us  a-livin'  here !     It's  jest  a  'nortal  pity 
To  sec  us  in  this  great  big  house,  with  cyarpcts  on  th« 
stairs, 
And  the  pump  right  in  the  kitchen ;  and  the  city !  city  1 
city ! — 
And  nothing  but  the  city  all  around  us  everywhereil 

Climb  clean  above  the  roof  and  look  from  the  8teei)le, 
And  never  see  a  robin,  nor  a  beech  or  e^lum  tree  I 

And  right  here  in  earshot  of  at  least  a  thousan'  people, 
And  none  that  neighbors  with  us,  or  we  wax»t  to  gtf 
«od  Me^ 


84-  SACK    WHERE   THEY    USED   TO   BK. 

Le's  go  a-visitin'  back  to  Griggsby's  Station — 

Back   where   the   latch-string's    a-hangin'  from   the 
door, 
A.nd  every  neighbor  'round  the  place  is  dear  as  a  rela- 
tion— 
Back  where  we  used  to  be  so  happy  and  so  pore ! 

I  want  to  see  the  Wiggenses,  the  whole  kit  and  bilin' 
A-drivin'  up  from  Shallow  Ford  to  stay  the  Sunday 
through, 
And  I  want  to  see  'em  hitchin'  at  their  son-in-law's  and 
pilin' 
Out  there  at  Lizy  Ellen's  like  they  used  to  do ! 
I  want  to  see  the  piece-quilts  the  Jones  girls  is  niakin', 
And  I   want  to  pester  Laury  'bout  their  freckled 
hired  hand, 
And  joke  her  'bout  the  widower  she  come  purt'  nigh 
a-takin', 
Till  her  pap  got  his  pension  'lowed  in  time  to  save 
his  land. 

Ive's  go  a-visitin'  back  to  Griggsby's  Station — - 
Back  where  they's  nothin'  aggervatin'  any  more, 

Shet  away  safe  in  the  wood  around  the  old  location — 
Back  where  we  used  to  be  so  happy  and  so  pore ! 

I  want  to  see  Mai-indy  and  he'p  her  with  her  sewin'. 
And  hear  her  talk  so  lovin'  of  her  man  that's  dead 
and  gone, 
And   stand   up  with   Emanuel  to  show  me  how  he's 
gTowin', 
And  smile  as  I  have  saw  her  'fore  she  put  her  mourn- 
in'  on. 


GETTING    LETTERS.  84 

And  1  want  U)  see  iheiSamples  on  the  old  lower  Eighty, 
Where  John,  our  oKU^st  boy,  he  was  took  and  buried, 
for 
His  own  sake  and  Katy's, — and  I  want  to  cry  with 
Katy 
As  she  reads  all  his  lettei-s  over,  writ  from  the  war. 

What's  in  all  this  grand  life  and  high  situation, 

And  nary  pink  nor  hollyluiwk  bloomin'  at  the  door? 

Le's  go  a-visitin'  back  to  Griggsby's  Station — 
Back  where  we  used  to  be  so  happy  and  so  pore . 
James  Whitcomb  Riley. 


GETTING  LETTERS. 


IF  you  are  a  man,  with  man's  respect  for  woman, 
and  if  you  have  just  sixty  seconds  to  spare  to  catch 
the  train,  and  if  you  step  into  the  post-office  to  inquire 
f  )r  your  mail  at  the  general  delivery,  as  did  a  certain 
worthy  citizen  recently,  yt)u  will  invariably  find  a  little 
woman  there  before  you — as  did  the  worthy  citizen — 
who  is  saying : 

"  Is  there  any  mail  for  me?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  replies  the  clerk. 

"But  you  never  looked.  I  know  there  must  be  a 
letter  from  Cousin  Ann  McGracker,  at  Obitewah." 

The  clerk  assured  her  that  there  is  no  such  letter. 

"Ain't  there  no  dress  samples  from  New  York?" 

"  No  dress  samples." 

"  Look  in  your  dress  sample  hole.  Hain't  you  got  a 
dress  sample  hole?"  (Here  you  .«tand  on  your  left 
fopt.)     "  Is  there  any  for  the  family  ?"  she  continue*. 


86  GETTIKG    LETTEEB. 

"  Nothing." 

"Oh,  dear  me!  what's  the  matter?  Uncle  Caleb 
promised  to  write,  sure,  last  week."  (Here  you  stand 
on  your  right  foot.)  "  Give  me  the  Simpsons'  mail 
then." 

The  Simpsons  have  a  letter. 

"Is  there  anything" — (at  this  point  you  take  out 
your  watch  and  beat  a  tattoo  with  your  boots) — "  for 
Jerry  Briggs  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Or  Morocco  Maud  Briggs  ?  Or  Robert  Jenkins 
Briggs  ?  Or  Henry  Clay  Briggs  ?  (You  take  a  turn 
or  two  up  and  down  the  office.)  Or  Martha  W.  Briggs  ? 
Or  little  Edgar  Allen  Poe  Briggs  ?  (You  advance  to  a 
position  as  near  behind  her  as  politeness  will  permit.) 
Mrs.  Minerva  Russell  told  me  to  ask  you  for  her  Chris- 
tian Expositor ;  it  ain't  come  ?  Why,  it's  always  come 
on  Tuesdays!  What's  the  matter?  Has  there  been  any 
railroad  accident,  or  has  the  printing  office  burned 
down,  or  what  can  it  be  ?"  (You  look  at  your  watch 
again  and  cough.)  "  Here's  a  newspaper  I  want  to 
send  to  a  lady  at  Smyrna.  Won't  you  please  fix  it  up 
for  me  ?  Now  direct  it,  please,  to  Mrs.  June  B.  Barker, 
Smyrna,  Rutherford  County,  Tennessee,  care  of  B.  F. 
Barker,  Esq.  I  do  write  such  a  poor  hand  myself." 
(You  walk  frantically  to  the  door,  glower  on  the  street, 
and  walk  frantically  back.)  "  1  believe  I've  got  a 
stamp  somewhere,"  and  then  she  proceeds  to  deliber- 
ately remove  from  lier  pockets  gloves,  handkerchiefs, 
hair-pins,  pin-cushions,  chewing  wax,  notes,  etc.,  all  of 
which  »he  closely  scrutinizes  in  search  of  the  missing 
stamp.  "  I  declare,  I  did  have  a  stamp  somewhere ! 
It's  too  bad,  now  ain't  it,  to  lose  it  ?"     Whereupon  she 


NICKERDEMUS    QUADRILLE.  8T 

g(>e^  through  her  pockets  a  second  time,  and  suddenly 
recollects  that  she  left  it  at  home  in  another  dresa'. 
Then  she  rifles  the  pocket  once  more  for  a  dime,  and, 
after  she  has  failed  to  find  it,  takes  it  placidly  out  of 
her  glove.  "  Give  me  three  three-cent  stamps  and  a 
one-cent." 

She  sticks  the  one-cent  on  a  newspaper,  and  is  in- 
formed by  the  clerk  that  it  requires  two  cents. 

"  A  two-cent  stamp !  A  two-cent  stamp  for  a  news- 
paper? Why,  the  law  ain't  been  changed,  has  it?" 
(You  jerk  off  your  hat  and  run  your  fingers  through 
your  hair  and  groan,  and  wish  you  were  a  ten-acre  lot, 
and  knew  all  the  bad  words  in  four  hundred  and  forty- 
two  languages.)  The  newspaper  is  finally  attended  to 
and  the  little  woman  asks  the  clerk  if  he  won't  be  kind 
enough  to  write  her  a  note  to  somebody  in  Punkapuk, 
Pa.,  who  offers  to  send  twelve  roses  for  twenty-five  cents, 
at  about  which  time  you  give  up  in  despair,  rush  into  a 
hack,  and  if  you  reach  the  station  in  time  to  catch  the 
train,  you  are  more  fortunate  than  was  the  worthy 
citizen  the  other  day. 


NICKERDEMUS  QUADRILLE. 


CHOOSE  yo'  pardners,  time's  er-flyin', 
Take  yo'  places  on  de  flo' ; 
Don't  yo'  hear  dat  fiddle  cryin' 
"  Nickerdemus  ebbermo !" 

S'lute  yo'  pardners,  bow  perlitely, 

Dat's  dc  motion  through  an'  through; 

Swing  dem  corners,  step  up  lightly, 
Hail  Columby  !  Hallaloo  ! 


88  NICKERDEMU8   QUADRILLE. 

Fus'  fo'  forward,  keep  er-diggin'. 
Now  you  sasliey  back  again. 

Nebber  mind  yo'  ragged  riggin', 
So's  't  don't  show  de  naked  skin. 

Lawdy  !  See  dat  Peter  Slater, 
How  he  bow  en  scrape  aroun'  ; 

Head  look  like  a  peeled  pertater — 
Slick  ez  glass  upon  de  crown. 

Ladies  change,  en  keep  er-scootin', 
Cross  right  ober,  now  yo'  swing. 

Hole  dem  heads  up  liighfalutin', 
Look  permiskus,  dat's  de  ting. 

Mussy  !  Look  at  Winny  Jeeter, 
Dat  gal  flings  a  soople  toe  ; 

Crack  yo'  heels  dar,  Tom,  en  meet  her^ 
Bow  en  smile,  en — "  so  en  so." 

Balance  all !  Now  don't  git  lazy, 
Fly  aroun'  en  tar  yo'  shirt. 

Stomp  dem  feet,  but  don't  go  crazy, 
Else  somebody  sho'  git  hurt. 

Fiddler  got  his  mouf  wide  ope'm, 
Hol'in'  dow^n  dat  music  tight, 

Teeth,  dey  settin'  sorter  slope'm — 
Look  like  tombstones  in  de  night. 

All  sasshey  !     I  'clar'  to  gracious; 

Nebber  seed  de  like  befo' ; 
Niggers  sho'ly  dance  ou'dacious 

'Sidrin'  drouth  an'  oberflow. 


pointer's  dyspeptic  goat.  80 

Heb'nly  kingdom  !  Look  at  Mary, 

Bofe  eyes  shiiiin'  like  de  moon, 
"  Don't  git  w'ary,  don"t  git  w'ary," 

Dat's  de  way  to  change  de  cliune. 

Promenade  !     Now,  dat  comes  handy. 

Hunt  yb'  seats  en  take  a  res'. 
Gentermens  will  pass  de  candy 

To  de  gals  dey  love  de  bes'. 

—  l^exa^  Slf tings. 


POINTER'S  DYSPEPTIC  GOAT. 


POINTER  rushes  indo  mine  house  de  oder  tay,  und 
he  say  : 

"  Bender,  dit  you  know  dot  go-its  vas  intichestiple  ?  I 
mean,  dit  you  efer  heard  apout  a  g(j-it  mit  de  dysbepsia?" 

Den  I  says  :  "  Pointer,  I  got  no  dime  do  lisden  to 
vild  gooseperry  shtories  apout  intichestiple  go-its,  or  any 
oder  kind  of  nonsense.     I  don't  pelief  it." 

"  It  ain't  no  nonsense  apout  it,"  says  Pointer.  "  Now, 
Bender,  you  breteut  to  pe  a  skientific  man,  vot  likes  to 
learn  somedings  alvays.  Now  I  told  you  a  go-it  can 
haf  dysbepsia.  I  know  it  py  mine  own  exberience.  I 
had  it  myself— de  go-it,  I  mean.  It's  name  vas  Nanny — 
Nanny  Go-it.  Dot's  a  pooty  name  ;  und  it  vas  a  pooty 
go-it.  Go-its,  you  know,  vas  fery  egonomical.  I  used 
dot  go-it  for  a  vaste  baper  pasket.  Von  I  si i polls  a 
biece  of  ba])er,  I  vhistles,  und  she  gomes  de  vindow  up. 
Den  T  fling  der  baper  into  her  mout,  und  she  valks  off, 
chews  de  baper,  und  makes  nice  go-it's  milk  oiid  of  it — 
ten  cends  a  quart  for  vaste  baper! 

"  Dot  go-it,  she  had  a  sblendit  happytight.   She  vould 


90  pointer's  dyspeptic  goat. 

eat  anything,  vrom  a  fine  e,anibric  anchorchief  off"  df 
glothes-line,  niit  your  name  engrai'od  iu  de  gorner,  to  a 
pasket  of  oyster-shelLs  on  de  half-shell ;  uud  she  nefer 
seemed  to  pe  droubled  niit  indichestion. 

"  But  she  died  in  a  strange  vay.  Some  beoble  tink 
she  gomitted  suinsite  out  of  herself. 

"  Von  tay  a  noo  trug  shtore  mofed  into  Harlem,  und 
he  vasn't  acquainted  mit  my  go-it.  So  he  put  a  pasket 
of  dried  shponges  de  door  oud,  und  he  leaves  de  cover  otf. 

"  Nanny,  she  gomes  along,  und  she  vas  pooty  hoon- 
gry.  She  eat  up  dem  dried  shponges,  und  she  eat  up 
de  pasket,  und  she  licked  up  de  sitewalk,  und  valked 
herself  off. 

"  Py-und-by  she  gomes  to  a  duck-pont,  und  she  felt 
awful  dry.  She  drank  up  dot  pont,  und  left  de  ducks  in 
«ie  mud  ;  und  den  she  shtarts  home. 

"  Fy  de  time  she  got  dere,  she  vas  as  pig  as  a  cow, 
und  as  light  as  a  feader.  Ven  de  vind  blows,  she 
vould  roll  ofer,  und  ve  had  to  die  her  mit  a  shtring  like 
a  kite  to  geep  her  down. 

"  Ve  sent  for  Toctor  Sonnenschmidt,  de  cow-toctor. 
Vhen  he  comes  he  says,  'I  untershtand  oxactly  de  case. 
It  vasn't  eating  de  shponges  ; — it  vas  trinking  de  vatei 
— hart-trinking — dot's  vere  she  made  de  misdake.  De 
only  ting  ve  can  do  vas  to  put  her  in  de  glothes-wrinker 
und  wrink  her  dry.' 

"But  it  vas  too  late.  Vhile  ve  vent  in  to  got  de 
glothes-wrinker,  ve  heard  a  loud  noise,  like  a  cannon 
oxbloded.  De  glasses  proke  mit  de  vindows  out ;  und 
ven  ve  comes  mit  de  yard  out  again,  de  go-it  vasn't 
dere.  Und  de  next  tay,  you  could  find  little  pieces  of 
shponges  all  ofer  de  shtreets  of  Harlem." 

Von  Boylb. 


pat's  letter.  91 

PAT'S  LETTER. 


DEAR  Dennis,  my  darlint,  I  take  up  my  pen. 
To  ax  ye  year  health,  and  to  urge  ye  agin 
To  lave  far  behind  ye  tne  city  of  Cork, 
\n'  to  cross  the  b'^tr  s&^  fur  the  town  av  New  York. 
ilf  this  letter  don't  rach  ye,  be  sure  ye  don't  fail 
To  answer  me  back  in  th'  fullowin'  mail ; 
For  Altherman  Reilly — good  luck  till  his  sowl — 
Last  month  put  your  name  on  the  city's  pay  rowl. 

Tell  friends  who  inquire,  an'  the  byes  ev'ry  one. 
That  this  is  the  foiuest  place  onther  the  sun ; 
That  an  Irishman  here  is  recaived  wid  respect. 
An'  his  claims  to  an  office  none  iver  reject ; 
That  Americans  all — may  they  never  grow  less — 
Entherthain  such  regard  for  the  powers  we  possess, 
That  niver  a  bit  do  they  offer  to  vote, 
But  lave  us  to  sail  the  political  boat. 

Yer  counthrymen  here  have  the  crarae  of  the  land  ; 
An'  ye  see  thim  the  rulers  on  every  hand  ; 
They're  law-makers,  law-brakers,  joodges  and  juries  ; 
Faix,  to  find  what  they're  not  would  distract  all  the 

furies. 
Yit  the  rayson  their  sarvices  have  sich  demand 
On  me  sowl  I  as  yit  cannot  well  ontherstand ; 
For  betwuxt  you  and  me  there  are  some  rather  dull, 
Wliile  the  best  have  a  weakness  to  a  thickness  of  skulL 

In  the  grand  Clity  Hall,  where  the  law-mukei-s  meet, 
To  exi)end  public  money  and  fight  in  del)ate, 
Twould  make  your  eyes  glisten  to  witness  how  grand 
Yer  counthrymen  look,  ranged  on  every  hand. 


92  pat's  letter. 

There's  Coinaii  an'  ( 'luldy,  O'Bi-icii,  an  Moore, 
O'Connor,  an'  Haley,  right  lionie  I'rora  yer  door; 
With  Chrishiloch  Farley,  O'Reilly,  and  Fay, 
O'Nail  and  Mike  Norton,  the  boy  for  a  fray. 

These  have  doorkeepers  grand,  Avid  no  doors  to  keep  ; 
Whose  sarvice  for  nothin'  wcjuld  haidly  be  cheap ; 
Yit  they're  paid  by  the  Council  Boord  here  in  ISevf 

York 
As  much  as  the  Queen  pays  the  Mayor  av  Cork. 
And  the  booard  has  a  manual  published  aich  year, 
Wherein  their  grand  signatures  bowldly  appear 
To  refute,  widout  doubt,  to  their  enemy's  shame. 
The  charge  that  an  Alderman  can't  write  his  name. 

In  a  friendly  discussion  av  sticks  vid  a  foe, 
Should  you  lave  him  for  dead  by  an  onlucky  blow, 
Shure  there's  Coroner  Keenan  and  Corijner  Flynn, 
Whose  vardict  will  be,  'twas  a  justihed  sin. 
Or  should  ye  be  tried  for  yer  life  by  a  joodge, 
Jist  keep  up  your  courage,  me  lad — never  budge, 
For  the  District  Attorney,  one  Gavin  by  name. 
Is,  like  Dick  O'Gorman,  a  man  most  humane. 
But,  alas  I  my  dear  bruhil,  should  everything  fail. 
An'  the  joodge  should  say  death,  let  your  cheeks  never 

pale. 
For  the  sheriff'  is  Shamus  O'Brien,  an'  he 
Is  opposed  to  enforcing  the  death  penalty. 

Go,  Dennis,  avic,  take  a  friendly  advice, 
An'  lave  the  ould  dart  with  your  friends  in  a  trice, 
For  at  home  nought  but  poverty  stares  in  your  face. 
While  here  you'll  be  honored,  and  get  a  good  place. 


TOM   SAWIER   TREATED   FOR   LOVEeiCKNISe.        93 


TOM  SAWYER  TREATED  FOR  LOVESICK- 

NESS. 


Abridged. 

TOM  SAWYER,  a  lad  of  twelve  years,  lived  with 
liis  guardian,  Aunt  Polly,  and  Tom,  like  some 
small  boys  and  many  large  ones,  was  lovesick.  Hia 
aunt  not  understanding  the  nature  of  the  disease  w.'is 
concerned. 

She  began  to  try  all  manner  of  remedies  on  him.  She 
was  one  of  those  people  who  are  infatuated  with  patent 
medicines,  and  all  new-fangled  methods  of  j)roducing 
health — or  mending  it.  She  was  an  inveterate  experi- 
menter in  these  things.  AVhen  something  fresh  in  thia 
line  came  out  she  was  in  a  fever,  right  away,  to  try  it ; 
not  on  herself,  for  she  was  never  ailing,  but  on  anybody 
else  that  came  handy.  She  was  a  subscriber  for  all  the 
"  Health "  periodicals  and  phrenological  frauds,  and 
the  solemn  ignorance  they  were  inflated  with  was  breath 
to  her  nostrils.  All  the  advice  they  contained  about 
ventilation,  and  how  to  go  to  bed,  and  how  to  get  up, 
and  what  to  eat,  and  what  to  drink,  and  how  mucli 
exercise  to  take,  and  what  frame  of  mind  to  keep  one's 
seli'  in,  and  wliat  sort  of  clothing  to  wear,  w-as  all  gospel 
to  her.  But  slie  never  suspected  that  she  was  not  an 
angel  of  healing  and  the  balm  of  Gilead  in  disguise  to 
the  suffering  neighbors.  The  water  treatment  was  now 
new,  and  Tom's  low  condition  was  a  windfall  to  her. 
She  had  him  out  at  daylight  every  morning,  stood  him 
up  in  the  wood  shed  and  drowned  him  with  a  deluge  of 
cold  water;  then  she  scrubbed  him  down  with  a  towel 
Uke  a  file,  and  so  brought  him  to ;  then  she  rolled  him 


94        TOM  SAWYER  TREATED   FOR   LOVE8ICKNES8. 

up  in  a  wet  sheet  and  put  him  away  under  blankets  tili 
she  sweated  his  soul  clean,  and  "  the  yellow  stains  of  it 
came  through  his  pores  " — as  Tom  said. 

Yet  notwithstanding  all  this,  the  boy  grew  more  and 
more  melancholy  and  pale  and  dejected.  She  added 
hot  baths,  sitz  baths,  shower  baths,  and  plunges.  The 
boy  remained  as  dismal  as  a  hearse.  She  began  to 
assist  the  water  with  a  slim  oatmeal  diet  and  blister 
plasters.  She  calculated  his  capacity  as  she  would  a 
jug's,  and  filled  him  up  every  day  with  quack  cure-alls. 

Tom  had  become  indifierent  to  persecution  by  this 
time.  This  phase  filled  the  old  lady's  heart  with  con- 
sternation. This  indifference  must  be  broken  up  at  any 
cost.  Now  she  heard  of  pain-killer  for  the  first  time. 
She  ordered  a  lot  at  once.  She  tet'ted  it  and  was  filled 
with  gratitude.  It  was  simply  fire  in  a  liquid  form. 
She  dropped  the  water  treatment  and  everything  else^ 
and  pinned  her  faith  to  Pain-killer.  She  gave  Tom  a 
teaspoonful  and  watched  with  the  deepest  anxiety  for 
the  result.  Her  troubles  were  instantly  at  rest,  her 
soul  at  peace  again  ;  for  the  "  indifference  "  was  broken 
up.  The  boy  could  not  have  showed  a  wilder,  heartier 
interest  if  she  had  built  a  fire  under  him.  Tom  felt  it 
was  time  to  wake  up  ;  this  sort  of  life  might  be  romantic 
enough  in  his  blighted  condition,  but  it  was  getting  to 
have  too  little  sentiment  and  too  much  distracting 
variety  about  it.  So  he  thought  over  various  plans  for 
relief,  and  finally  hit  upou  that  of  professing  to  be  fond 
of  Pain-killer.  He  asked  for  it  so  often  that  he  became 
a  nuisance,  and  his  aunt  ended  by  telling  him  to  help 
himself  and  quit  bothering  her.  But  suspecting  Tom, 
ehe  watched  the  bottle  clandestinely.  She  found  that 
the  medicine  did  really  diminish,  but  it  did  not  occur  to 


"SOU  SAWYER  TREATED   FOR   LOVESICKKESS.        95 

hw  that  the  boy  was  meuding  the  healtli  of  a  cxack  in 
the  sitting-room  floor  with  it. 

One  day  Tom  was  in  the  act  of  dosing  the  crack, 
when  his  aunt's  yellow  cat  came  along,  purring,  eying 
the  teaspoon  avariciously,  and  begging  for  a  taste.  Tom 
said: 

"  Don't  ask  for  it  unless  you  want  it,  Peter." 

But  Peter  signified  that  he  did  want  it. 

"  You  better  make  sure." 

Peter  was  sure. 

"  Now  you've  asked  for  it,  and  I'll  give  it  to  you, 
because  there  ain't  anything  mean  about  me  ;  but  if  you 
find  you  don't  like  it  you  musn't  blame  anybody  but 
your  own  self." 

Peter  was  agreeable.  So  Tom  pried  his  mouth  open 
and  poured  down  the  Pain-killer.  Peter  sprang  a 
couple  of  yards  in  the  air,  and  then  delivered  a  war- 
whoop  and  set  off  round  and  round  the  room,  banging 
against  furniture,  upsetting  flower  pots,  and  making 
general  havoc.  Next  he  rose  on  his  hind  feet  and 
pranced  around  in  a  frenzy  of  enjoyment,  with  his  head 
over  his  shoulder,  and  his  voice  proclaiming  his  unap- 
peasable happiness.  Then  he  went  tearing  around  the 
house  again,  spreading  chaos  and  destruction  in  his 
path.  Aunt  Polly  entered  in  time  to  see  him  throw  a 
few  double  summersaults,  deliver  a  final  mighty  hurrah, 
and  sail  through  the  open  window,  carrying  the  rest  of 
the': flower-pots  with  him. 

The  old  lady  stood  petrified  with  astonishment,  peer- 
ing over  her  glasses ;  Tom  lay  on  the  floor  expiring 
mth  laughter. 

"  Tom,  what  on  earth  ails  that  cat?" 

**I  don't  know.  Aunt,"  gasped  the  boy. 


BS  POET-TREE. 

"  Why  I  never  see  anything  like  il.  What  did  m^e 
him  act  so  ?" 

"  'Deed  I  don't  know,  Aunt  Polly  ;  cats  always  act  so 
when  they're  having  a  good  time." 

"  They  do,  do  they  ?"  There  was  something  in  the 
tone  that  made  Tom  apprehensive. 

"  Yes'm.     That  is,  I  believe  they  do." 

"  You  do  ?" 

"  Yes'ra." 

The  old  lady  was  bending  down,  Tom  watching  with 
interest  emphasized  by  anxiety.  Too  late  he  divined 
her  drift.  The  handle  of  the  tell-tale  teaspoon  was 
visible.  Aunt  Polly  took  it,  held  it  up.  Tom  winced, 
and  dropped  his  eyes.  Aunt  Polly  raised  him  by  the 
usual  handle — his  ear — and  cracked  his  head  soundly 
with  her  thimble. 

"  IS'ow,  sii%  what  do  you  want  to  treat  that  poor  dumb 
beast  80  for  ?" 

"  I  done  it  out  of  pity  for  him — because  he  hadn't 
any  aunt." 

"Hadn't  any  aunt! — you  numscull.  What  has  that 
got  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  Heaps !  Because  if  he'd  a  had  one  she'd  a  burnt 
him  out  herself."  Mark  Twain. 


POET-TREE. 


OAK,  Caroline !  fir  yew  I  pine ; 
O,  w^illow,  will  you  not  be  mine? 
Thy  ha/el  eyes,  thy  tulips  red, 
Thy  ways,  all  larch,  have  turned  my  liead ; 


ART   AND   NATURE.  I 

A.11  linden  shadows  by  thy  gate. 
I  cypress  on  my  heart  and  wait ; 
Then  gum  !  be  cherished,  Caroline ; 
We'll  lly  for  elms  of  bliss  divine. 

O,  spruce  young  man !  I  cedar  plan — 
Catalpa's  money,  if  you  can  ; 
You  sumach  ash,  but  not  my  heart ; 
You're  evergreen,  so  now  depart ; 
You'ld  like  to  poplar — that  I  see — 
Birch  you  walnut  propose  to  me — 
Here's  pa  I  you'll  se  helmlock  the  gate ; 
He  maple  litely  say,  "  'tis  late." 

Locust  that  lovyer,  while  he  flew 
For  elms  before  that  parent's  shoe ; 
He  little  thought  a  dog  would  bite 
And  make  him  balsam  much  that  night, 
Hawthorney  path  he  traveled  o'er, 
And  he  was  sick  and  sycamore. 

H.   C.   DODGB. 


ART   AND   NATURE. 


ELIZA  JANE,  two  lovers  had. 
The  one  was  Nature,  t'other  Art, 
They  were  so  very  near  alike. 
She  couldn't  tell  the  two  apart. 

At  last,  to  test  their  qualities, 

And  give  to  one  the  vantage  place; 

She  proffered  each  a  photograph 
Of  her  ethereal,  tempting  fiioe. 
7 


DUEL   BETWEEN   MR.   8HOTT   AND  ME.    NOTT. 

Art  snatched  the  pretty  paper  prize, 
And  pressed  it  to  his  heart,  and  then 

He  put  it  to  his  marble  lips, 

And  kissed  it  o'er  and  o'er  again. 

But  Nature  hurled  the  painted  gift 
Aside,  with  haughty,  proud  disdain, 

And  grappling  her  with  strong  embrace, 
He  kissed  that  plump  Eliza  Jane. 

"  Begone,  O  Art !"  the  maiden  cried, 
"  Let  critics  hymn  your  praise  sublime, 

But  men  are  men  and  girls  are  girls, 
And  I'll  take  Nature  every  time." 


THE  DUEL  BETWEEN  MR.  SHOTT  AND 
MR.  NOTT. 


A  DUEL  was  lately  fought  in  Texas  by  Alexander 
Shott  and  John  S.  Nott.  Nott  was  shot,  and 
Shott  was  not.  In  this  case  it  is  better  to  be  Shott  than 
Nott.  There  was  a  rumor  that  Nott  was  not  shot,  and 
Shott  avows  that  he  shot  Nott,  which  proves  either 
that  the  shot  Shott  shot  at  Nott  was  not  shot,  or  that 
Nott  was  shot  notwithstanding.  Circumstantial  evidence 
is  not  always  good.  It  may  be  made  to  appear  on  trial 
that  the  shot  Shott  shot  shot  Nott,  or,  as  accidents  with 
fire-arms  are  frequent,  it  may  be  possible  that  the  shot 
Shott  shot  shot  Shott  himself,  when  the  whole  affair 
would  resolve  itself  into  its  original  elements,  and  Shott 
would  be  shot,  and  Nott  would  be  not.  We  think, 
however,  that  the  shot  Shott  shot  shot  not  Shott,  but 
Nott ;  anyway,  it  is  hard  to  tell  who  was  shot. — Har- 
per's  Weekly. 


THEOLOGY  IN  THE  QUARTERS.         99 

THEOLOGY  IN  THE  QIJAKTERS. 


"VrOW,  I's  got  a   notion   in  my  head  dat  when  you 
-L.'        come  to  di;', 

An'  .Stan'  de  'zaminatiou  in  de  Cote-Ron.=>e  in  dc  ?ky, 
i'ou'll   1)0   'stonishcd   at  dc  questions  dat   de   angel'g 

gwine  to  ax 
When  he  gits  you  on  dc  VFitnest-stan'  an'  pin  you  to  de 

fac's ; 
'Cause  he'll  ax  you  mighty  closely  'bout  your  doin's  in 

dc  night, 
An'  de  water-milion  question's  gwine  to  bodder  you  a 

sight  ! 
Den  your  eyes'll  open  wider  dan  dcy  ebher  done  bcfo', 
When  he  chats  you  'bout  a  chickeu  scrape  dat  happened 

long  ago ! 

De  angels  on  de  picket-line  erlong  de  Milky  Way 
Keeps  a-watchin'  v>hat  you're  dribin'   at,   an'   hearin' 

what  you  say  ; 
No  matter  what  you  want  to  do,  no  matter  whar  you's 

gwine, 
Day's  mighty  ap'  to  find  it  out  an'  pass  it  'long  de  line ; 
And  of  en  at  de  nieetin',  when  you  make  a  fuss  an' 

laugh, 
Why,  dcy  send  de  news  a-kitin'  by  de  golden  telegraph ; 
Den  de  angel  in  de  orfis,  wliat's  a  settin'  by  de  gate, 
Jes'  reads  dc  me^.-^age  Nvid  a  look  ;ui'  claps  it  on  de  slate! 

Den  you  better  do  your  duty  well  an'  keep  your  con- 
science clear. 

An'  k':-ep  a-lookin' -straight  ahead  an'  watchin'  wliar  yo* 
steer  : 


169  LOVE'S  SEASONS. 

'Cause  arter  while  de  time'll  come  to  journey  fum  df 

Ian', 
An*  dey'll  take  you  Avay  up  in  de  a'r  an'  put  you  on  df 

Stan'  ; 
Den  you'll  hab  to  listen  to  de  clerk  an'  answer  mighty 

straight, 
If  you  ebbcr  spec'  to  trabble  froo  de  ala}ila,ater  gate  I 

—  The  Century, 


LOVE'S  SEASONS. 


'mWAS  spring  when  I  first  found  it  out; 
J-      'Twas  autumn  when  I  told  it: 
The  gloomy  winter  made  me  doubt, 

And  summer  scarce  could  hold  it ; 
"  She  loves,"  the  mating  robins  sang 

In  sweet,  delicious  trebles, 
And  in  the  brooks  the  echo  rang 

In  music  o'er  the  pebbles. 

The  fresh  air,  filled  with  fragrant  scent 

Of  blossoms,  softly  hinted 
The  self-same  song  ;  where'er  I  went 

I  found  the  message  printed 
On  bud  and  leaf,  on  earth  and  sky. 

Through  sun  and  rain  it  glistened, 
And  though  I  never  reasoned  why, 

I  always  read  or  listened. 

The  summer  dawned,  and  still  the  birds 

Sang  in  their  tree-top  glory, 
And  something  seemed  to  make  their  wordh 

A  sequel  to  my  story  : 


TIMOTHY   DOOLAN'S   WILL.  lOJ 

•*  You  love,"  they  twittered  in  the  trees, 
Whene'er  the  light  wind  stirred  them,-— 

Distracting  words  !  on  every  breeze 
They  fluttered,  and  I  heard  them. 

At  last  the  meJlow  autumn  came. 

And  all  the  leaves  were  turning, 
The  fields  and  forests  were  atlame 

in  golden  sunliglit  burning; 
The  parting  birds  sang  out  again 

A  sentimental  message : 
"  Go  tell  her,"  whispered  they,  and  then 

I  thought  'twas  love's  first  presage. 

Oh !  timid-hearted  twenty-four, 

To  faint  and  lose  your  courage, 
Or  half  reluc'.antly  imph)re 

A  pretty  girl  at  her  age  ! 
For  when  I  stammered  what  they  sung 

And  all  their  secrets  told  her. 
She  said  the  birds  were  right,  and  I'ung 

Her  head  upon  my  shoulder. 

Frank  Dempster  Sherman, 


TIMOTHY  DOOLAN'S  WILL. 


I  TIMOTHY  DOOLAN,  of  Barrydownderry,  in  th« 
1  County  Clare,  farmer,  being  sick  and  wake  on  my 
legs,  but  of  sound  head  and  warm  heart,  do  make  this  my 
first  and  last  will  and  old  and  new  testament.  First,  I 
give  me  sowl  to  God,  when  it  plazes  Him  to  take  it — 
ehure,  no  thanks  to  me,  for  I  can't  help  it  then,— and  my 
body  to  be  buried  in  the  ground  at  Barrydownderry 


102  A  MEDLEY. 

Chapel,  where  all  my  kith  and  kin  that  have  gone  beforo 
me,  and  those  who  live  after,  belonging  to  me,  are  buried, 
pace  to  their  ashes,  and  may  the  sod  rest  lightly  ove* 
their  bones.  Bury  me  near  my  god-father  and  my 
mother,  who  lie  separated  all  together,  at  the  other  side 
of  the  chapel  yard.  I  lave  the  bit  of  ground,  contain- 
ing eight  acres — rale  old  Irish  acres — to  me  eldest  sou 
'fim,  after  the  death  of  his  mother,  if  she  lives  to  sur- 
vive him.  My  daughter  Mary  and  her  husband,  Paddy 
O'Reagan,  are  to  have  the  black  pig  and  her  twelve 
black  young  ones.  Teddy,  my  second  boy,  that  was 
killed  in  the  war  in  Ameriky,  might  have  got  his  pick 
of  poultry,  but  as  he  has  gone,  I'll  lave  them  to  his 
wife,  who  died  a  week  before  liim.  I  bequeath  to  all 
mankind  fresh  air  of  heaven,  all  the  fishes  in  the  sea 
they  can  take,  and  all  the  birds  of  the  air  they  can 
shoot.  I  lave  to  them  all  the  sun,  moon,  and  stai-s.  I 
lave  to  Peter  Rafferty  a  pint  of  potheen  I  can't  finish, 
and  may  God  be  merciful  to  him.  Good-bye  to  the 
whole  wuruld,  good-bye ! 


A  MEDLEY. 


•'/^N  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low, 

vy      All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow. 
And  dark  as  winter  was  the  How 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly." 

"  But  Linden  saw  another  sight 

When  the  drum  beat,  at  dead  of  night, 

Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light 

The"— 

••  Silken,  sad,  uncertain  rustling  of  each  purple  curtaia 


A   MEDLEY.  103 

Thrilled  me — filled  me  with  fantastic  terrors  never  felt 
before ; 

So  that  now,  to  still  the  beating  of  my  heart,  I  stood 
repeating  " — 

*' '  Forward,  the  Light  Brigade  I 

Charge  for  the  guns  !'  he  said  ; 

Into  the  Valle}'  of  Death 

Rode  the  six  hundred. 

*  Forward,  the  Light  Brigade  V 

Was  there  a  man  dismayed  ? 

Not  though  the  soldiers  knew" — 

"  I  am  thy  father's  spirit ; 

Doomed  for  a  certain  term  to  walk  the  night ; 

And  for  the  day,  confined  to  fast  in  fires, 

Till  the  foul  crimes  done  in  my  days  of  nature 

Are  burned  and  purged  away.  But  that  I  am  for- 
bid 

To  teU"— 

*'  In  sweet  May  time,  so  long  ago, 

I  stood  by  the  big  wheel  spinning  tow, 

Buzz,  l)uzz,  so  very  slow  ;" — 

"  While  a  rub,  dub,  dub  a  rub,  dub,  dub  a  rub  a  dub, 
dub  a  dub,  bub.  dub  dub 

Exultingly  the  tidings  brings  " — 

"  Where  the  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls. 

And  snowy  summits,  old  in  story  ; 

The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes, 

And  the  wild  cataract  leaps  in  glory. 

Blow,  bugle,  blow ;  set  the  wild  echoes  flying. 

Blow,  bugle,  answer,  echoes,  dying,  dying,  dying"— 

"  For  I'm  to  be  queen  o'  the  May,  naother, 

I'm  to  be  queen  o'  the  May, 

So  you  must  wake  and  caU  me  early  " — 


304  A   MEDLEY. 

For 

"  Mark  Haley  drives  along  the  street, 

Perched  high  upon  his  wagon  seat ; 

His  somber  face  the  storm  defies, 

And  thus  from  morn  till  eve  he  cries, 

*  Charco  !   charco !' 

And  many  a  roughish  lad  replies, 

'  Ark,  ho !  ark,  ho  !' 

'Charco!'— 'Ark,  ho!'" 

"  But  then  I'm  only  a  little  girl,  but  I  think  I  have  aa 
much  right  to  say  what  I  think  about  things  as  a  boy. 
I  hate  boys ;  they  always  grab  all  the  strawberries  at 
the  dinner  table,  and  never  tell  us  when  they  are  going 
to  have  any  fiin.  I  like  Gus  Rogers,  though.  The 
other  day  Gus  kissed  me,  and  a  woman  said  : 

" '  Shame !  shame  !  and  you  shouldn't  a-let  him  kiss 
you.     No  doubt  you  were  mostly  to  blame.'      The  hate- 
ful old  thing  she  made  Gus  cry  and  say  :" 
"  I  know,  boo,  hoo,  I  ought  to  not, 
But  somehow,  from  her  looks — boo,  hoo — 
I  thought  she  kind  o'  wished  me  to  !" 
"  For  sorry  a  bit  I  knew  what  was  comin'  till  the  missus 
walked  into  the  kitchen  a-smilin',  and   says,  kind  o' 
schared    loik,  '  Here's  Fing  Wing,  Kitty,  an'  you'll 
have  too  much  since  to  mind  his  bein'  a  little  strange.' 
Wid  that  she  shoots  the  door,  and  I,  mistrustin'  was  I 
tidied  up  sufficient  for  me  foin  b'y  wid  his  paper  collar, 
looks  up  and — Howly  Fathers !    may  I  niver  brathe 
another  breath  but  there  stood  " — 
"  Robert  of  Lincoln  telling  his  name  ; 
Bob  o'  link,  bob  o'  link 
Spink,  spank,  spink ; 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 


UNCLE  TOM   AND   THE   H0RNET3.  105 

Robert  of  Liiicolu  is  gayly  dressed, 

Wearing  a  briglit  black  wedding  coat ; 

"White  are  his  shoulders  and  white  his  crest ; 

Hear  him  call  in  his  merrj-  note," 

" '  Rags !  rags  !  any  rags  ?  iron  and  old  rags !'  " 

"  When  loud  a  clarion  voice  replied," — 

"  '  Yes,  it  is  worth  talking  of !  Bui  that's  how  you  always 

try  to  put  me  down.     You  fly  into  a  rage,  and  then,  if 

I  only  try  to  speak,  you  won't  hear  me.     That's  how 

you  men  always  will  have  all  the  talk  to  yourselves  ;  a 

poor  woman  isn't  allowed  to  get  a  word  in.'  " 

Arranged  by  Elizabeth  Mansfield  Irving. 


UNCLE  TOM  AND  THE  HORNETS. 


THERE  is  an  old  woman  down  town  who  delights  to 
find  a  case  that  all  the  doctors  have  failed  to  cure, 
and  then  go  to  work  with  herbs  and  roots  and  strange 
things,  and  try  to  effect  at  least  an  improvement.  A 
few  days  ago  she  got  hold  of  a  girl  with  a  stiff  neck, 
and  she  offered  an  old  negro  named  Uncle  Tom  Kelley 
fifty  cents  to  go  to  the  woods  and  bring  her  a  hornets' 
nest.  This  was  to  be  steeped  in  vinegar  and  a))pliod  to 
the  neck.  The  old  man  spent  a  few  days  in  the  search, 
and  yesterday  moi'ning  he  secured  his  prize  and  brought 
it  home  in  a  basket.  When  he  reached  the  Central 
Market  he  had  a  few  little  purchases  to  make,  and  after 
getting  some  few  articles  at  a  grocery,  he  placed  \m 
basket  on  a  barrel  near  the  stove,  and  went  out  to  look 
for  a  beef  bone.  It  was  a  dull  d:i}'  f<»r  trade.  The  gro- 
cer sat  by  the  stove  rubbing  his  bald  liead.  His  clerk 
stood  at  the  desk  balancing  accounts  and  tliree  ui-  four 


106  UNCLE  TOM   AND  THE   HORNETS. 

men  lounged  around,  talking  about  the  new  party  that 
is  to  be  founded  on  tlie  ruin  of  the  falling  ones.  It  was 
a  serene  hour.  One  hundred  and  fifty  hornets  had  gone 
to  roost  in  that  nest  for  the  winter.  The  genial  atmos- 
phere began  to  limber  them  up.  One  old  veteran 
opened  his  eyes,  rubbed  his  legs,  and  said  it  was  the 
shortest  winter  he  had  ever  known  in  all  his  hornet 
days.  A  second  shook  off  his  lethargy  and  seconded 
the  motion,  and  in  five  minutes  the  whole  nest  was  alive 
and  its  owners  were  ready  to  sail  out  and  investigate. 
You  don't  have  to  hit  a  hornet  with  the  broad  side  of  aq 
ax  to  make  him  mad.  He's  mad  all  over  all  the  time, 
and  he  doesn't  care  a  picayune  whether  he  tackles  a 
humming-bird  or  an  elephant.  The  grocer  was  telling 
one  of  the  men  that  he  and  General  Grant  were  boys 
together,  when  he  gave  a  sudden  start  of  surprise.  This 
was  followed  by  several  other  starts.  Then  he  jumped 
over  a  barrel  of  sugar  and  yelled  like  a  Pawnee.  Some 
smiled,  thinking  he  was  after  a  funny  climax,  but  it 
was  only  a  minute  before  a  solemn  old  farmer  jumped 
three  feet  high,  and  came  down  to  roll  over  a  job  lot  of 
washboards.  Then  the  clerk  ducked  his  head  and 
rushed  for  the  door.  He  didn't  get  there.  One  of  the 
other  men,  who  had  been  looking  up  and  down  to  see 
what  could  be  the  matter,  felt  suddenly  called  upon  to 
go  home.  He  was  going  at  the  rate  of  forty  miles  an 
hour,  when  he  collided  with  the  clerk,  and  they  rolled 
on  the  floor.  There  was  no  use  to  tell  the  people  in 
that  store  to  move  on.  They  couldn't  tarry  to  save  'em. 
They  all  felt  that  the  rent  was  too  high,  and  that  they 
must  vacate  the  premises.  The  crowd  went  out  to- 
gether. Uncle  Tom  was  just  coming  in  with  his  beef- 
bone.     When  a  larger  body  meets  a  smaller  one^,  the 


time's  revenge.  107 

larger  body  knocks  it  into  the  middle  of  next  week. 
The  old  mail  lay  around  in  the  slush  until  everybody 
had  stepped  on  him  all  they  wauted  to,  and  then  he  sat 
up  and  asked,  "  Hev  dey  got  de  iiah  all  put  out  yit  ?" 
Finally  Uncle  Tom  was  able  to  secure  his  nest,  and 
])lacing  it  in  the  basket,  said,  "  Mebbe  dis  will  cure  de 
Ktidhess  in  dat  gal's  neck,  jist  de  same,  hut  I  tell  you 
Tse  got  banged  and  bumped  an'  sot  down  on  till  it  will 
lake  a  hull  medical  college  all  winter  long  to  git  me  ao 
I  kin  jump  off  a  street  kyar." — Detroit  Free  Press. 


TIME'S  REVENGE. 


WHEN  I  was  ten  and  she  fifteen, 
Ah,  nie  !  how  fair  I  thought  her. 
She  treated  with  disdainful  mien 

The  homage  that  I  brought  her, 
And  in  a  patronizing  way 

Would  of  my  shy  advances  say  : 
*'  It's  really  quite  absurd,  you  see  ; 
He's  very  much  too  young  for  me." 


I'm  twenty  now,  she  twenty-fi^ 

Well,  well,  how  old  she's  growing. 
I  fancy  that  my  suit  might  thrive 

If  pressed  again  ;  but  owing 
To  great  discrepancy  in  age. 

Her  marked  attentions  don't  engage 
My  young  affections,  for,  you  see. 

She's  really  quite  too  old  for  me. 


108  BRUDDER    GARDINER   ON   MUSIC. 

AGNES,  I  LOVE  THEE. 


I  STOOD  upon  the  ocean's  briny  shore, 
And  with  a  fragile  reed  I  traced  upon  the  sand : 
"  Agnes,  I  love  thee." 
The  mad  waves  rolled  by  and  blotted  out  the  fair  im- 
pression. 
Frail  reed !  cruel  wave  !  treacherous  sand  ! 
I'll  trust  ye  no  more  ! 
But,  with  a  giant  hand, 
I'll  pluck  from  Norway's  frozen  shore  her  tallest  pine, 
And  dip  its  top  into  the  crater  of  Mt.  Vesuvius, 
And  on  the  high  and  burnished  heavens  I'll  write : 

"  Agnes,  I  love  thee." 
And  I  would  like  to  see  any  doggoned  wave  wash  that  out. 


BRUDDER  GARDINER  ON  MUSIC. 


"T\E  soun'  of  a  hoss-fiddle,"  says  Brudder  Gardiner, 
-L'  "  brings  up  old  reckoleckshuas  an'  starts  de  tear 
of  regret.  If  played  long  'nuff,  an'  de  wind  am  in  de 
right  direckshun,  it  will  cause  de  listener  to  shell  out  a 
subscripshun  of  three  thousan'  dollare  to'rds  a  new 
cull'd  Baptist  Church.     Try  it  once  and  be  convinced. 

"  De  soun'  of  a  harp  hits  a  man  below  de  belt.  He 
begins  to  fink  of  all  de  mean  fings  he  ever  did,  an'  to 
wish  he  hadn't,  an'  at  de  eand  of  fifteen  minits  he  am 
already  to  step  ober  an'  pay  his  naybur  a  dollar  apiece 
fiir  de  hens  he  shot  in  his  garden  las'  spring. 

"  The  jewsharp  goes  right  to  de  soul.  If  your  wife 
am  all  ready  to  'lope  off  wid  de  hired  man  de  notes  of 


MY   RIVAL.  10^ 

de  jewsliarp  will  take  her  bonnet  off  in  sixteen  secondg. 
If  you  keep  a  hired  man  you  should  also  keep  a  jews- 
harp. 

"  Pianer  music  sometimes  hits  and  sometimes  misses. 
Ize  kno\Yn  it  to  make  an  old  baldhead  go  home  an'  pass 
two  hull  hours  widout  cuffin'  de  chiiren,  an'  Ize  known 
it  to  cause  a  young  gal  to  slide  down  ober  de  roof  ob  de 
kitchen  an'  'lope  off  wid  de  owner  of  a  sideshow. 

"  De  guitar  alius  brings  sadness  an'  a  resolushun  to 
begin  on  de  1st  of  Jinuary  to  quit  a-runnin'  out  nights 
an'  playing  policy. 

"  De  brass  band  might  soothe  a  sorrowin'  soul  if  de 
said  sorrowin'  soul  didn't  have  all  he  could  do  to  hold 
his  boss. 

"  De  organ  fills  de  soul  wid  awe  an'  strikes  de  heroic 
chord.  If  you  am  layiu'  fur  a  man,  doan'  tackle  him 
jist  arter  he  has  bin  takin'  in  de  notes  of  an  organ. 

"  De  banjo — yum  !  If  you  want  my  dog — my  boss — 
my  house  an'  lot,  play  me  de  banjo  an'  keep  time  wid 
yer  fut.  I  'spect  de  music  of  angelic  harps  am  sweet  an' 
soft  an'  dreamy,  but  if  dey  want  to  keep  us  cull'd  folks 
satisfied  up  dar,  a  leetle  mo'  banjo  an'  a  ieetle  less  harp 
am  de  fust  prescription." 


MY  RIVAL. 


HOAV  I  hate  to  see  him  there, 
With  his  haughty,  well-bred  aii; 
At  her  side, 
Looking  with  a  scornful  eye 
At  n(X)r  me,  as  I  walk  by 
While  they  ride. 


ilO  MY    RIVAL. 

Well  I  know  be  is  not  worth, 
Spite  of  all  his  pride  of  birth, 

Such  a  favor ; 
And  I  think,  as  I  advance, 
Of  that  calculating  glance 

That  he  gave  her. 

Lady  dear,  he  cares  for  naught 

But  the  things  which  may  be  bought 

With  your  pelf  ; 
In  his  thoughts  you  have  no  part. 
And  his  cold  and  sluggish  heart 

Beats  for  self. 

Yet  how  glad  I'd  be  and  gay 
If  you'd  treat  me  in  that  way 

You  treat  him. 
Twould  with  heaven  itself  surround  me> 
And  the  sad  old  world  around  me 
Would  grow  dim. 

Ah,  my  lady,  fair  and  sweet, 
Will  you  tell  me  when  we  meet. 

If  it's  true 
That  your  heart  has  grown  so  small, 
There  is  no  room  there  at  all 

For  me  too  ? 

Did  she  rnswer  no,  or  yes  ? 
She  but  gave  him  a  caress, 

Quite  a  hug, 
And  I  stayed  to  see  him  courted, 
For  he  is  her  fine,  imported 

English  pug.  Bessie  Chandler. 


TIME   TURNS   THE   TABLES.  Ill 

TIME  TURNS  THE  TABLES. 


TEN  3'eai*3  ago,  wliea  she  was  ten, 
I  used  to  tease  and  scold  her ; 
I  liked  her  and  slue  loved  me  then, 
A  boy,  some  five  years  older. 

I  liked  her  ;  she  would  fetch  my  book, 
Bring  lunch  to  stream  or  thicket ; 

Would  oil  my  gun  and  bait  my  hook, 
And  field  for  hours  at  cricket. 

She'd  mend  my  cap  or  find  my  whip  ; 

Ah !  but  boys'  hearts  are  stony  ; 
I  liked  her  rather  less  than  "  Gyp," 

And  far  less  than  my  pony. 

She  loved  me  then,  though  heaven  knows  why, 

Small  wonder  she  had  liated  ; 
For  scores  of  dolls  she  had  to  cry. 

Whom  I  decapitated. 

I  tore  her  frocks,  I  mussed  her  hair, 

Called  "  red  "  the  sheen  upon  it ; 
Out  fisliing  I  would  even  dare 

Catch  tad-poles  in  her  bonnet. 

Well,  now  I  expiate  my  crime, 

The  Nemesis  of  fables 
Comes  after  years — to-day  old  Time 

On  me  has  turned  the  tables. 

I'm  twenty-five,  she's  twenty  now, 
Dark-eyed,  fair-cheeked,  and  bonny ; 

The  curls  are  golrlon  round  hor  brow — 
She  smiles  and  calls  me  "  Johnny." 


112  HIS   SIGN. 

Of  yore,  I  used  her  Christian  name. 
But  now,  through  fate  or  malice, 

When  she  is  by,  my  lips  can't  frame 
The  letters  that  spell  "  Alice." 

I  who  could  laugh  at  her  and  tease, 

Stand  silent  now  before  her ; 
Dumb  through  the  very  wish  to  please, 

A  speechless,  shy  adorer. 

Or,  if  she  turns  to  me  to  speak, 

I'm  dazzled  by  her  graces  ; 
The  hot  blood  rushes  to  my  cheeks, 

I  babble  commonplaces. 

She's  kind  and  cool ;  ah  !  heaven  know?  how 
I  wish  she  blushed  and  faltered  ! 

She  likes  me  and  I  love  her  now  ; 
Ah  me !  how  things  have  altered. 


HIS  SIGN. 


THREE  or  four  days  ago  a  colored  man,  living  in 
Detroit,  hung  out  a  sign  on  his  house,  which  read  : 

"  For  Sail." 

He  happened  to  be  at  the  gate,  when  a  white  man 
came  along  and  said  : 

"  You'll  never  get  an  offer  for  your  house  with  any 
such  spelling  as  that." 

The  owner  of  the  place  was  greatly  puzzled  to  im- 
prove the  orthogi-aphy,  but  finally  took  his  wife's  advice, 
and  made  it  "ead  : 

♦'  For  Sell." 


A   LESSON   IN   TENNIS.  113 

This  seemed  to  be  all  right  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then 
a  schoolboy  halted  and  said  : 

"  If  you  don't  fix  that  sign,  all  the  children  will  be 
laughing  at  you." 

There  was  another  convention  of  the  family,  to  see 
where  the  mistake  came  in,  and  the  sign  was  made  to 
read: 

"  Fur  Sail." 

It  had  not  been  up  an  hour,  when  an  old  colored  man 
came  along  and  queried ; 

"  Does  you  mean  dat  dis  place  am  fur  Sally  ?  What 
yer  gwine  to  giv  de  place  to  Sally  for  ?" 

"  Am  you  findin'  fault  wid  dat  sign?"  asked  the  other. 

"  Well,  I  doan'  quite  cotch  on  to  the  spellin'." 

"  You  doan,  eh  ?  Has  you  got  seben  hundi'ed  dollars 
to  pay  cash  down  fur  dis  place  ?" 

"  No,  sah." 

"  Den  you  pass  on,  an'  shet  up !  Maybe  I  doan 
spell  jist  de  same  as  you  do,  but  I'ze  got  prospects  of 
handlin'  seben  hundred  dollars,  while  you  has  got  boaf 
knees  out  to  de  wedder.  I  doan'  ker  to  use  high  flown 
language,  an'  hev  to  w'ar  a  shoe  on  one  foot  an'  a  bute 
on  edder.  Go  'long,  ole  man — you  am  too  fly  on  geog'« 
aphy." 


A  LESSON  IN  TENNIS. 


THEY  played  at  tennis  that  sunimor  day — 
Where  was  it?  Oh,  call  it  Mount  Desert — 
The  place  matters  not ;  I  will  simply  say 
Thev  wore  plnying  tennis  that  summer  day, 
And  she  wore  a  short  and  striped  skirt. 
8 


H4  A   LESSON   IN   TENNIS. 

He  played  but  ill — 'twas  his  first  essay— 

And  she  his  partner  and  coach  was  both  ; 
Though  perhaps  not  "  up  "  in  the  points  of  play. 
Yet  she  knew  the  game  in  a  general  way, 

And  to  give  him  points  seemed  nothing  loath. 

He  did  his  best,  but  his  best  was  poor ; 

The  balls  served  to  him  on  his  side  stayed ; 
And  thus  it  went  on  for  a  round  or  more. 
Till,  anxious,  he  ventured  to  ask  the  score  ! 

"  The  score  ?  Why,  it's  Thirty— Love,"  she  said. 

*'  And  Love  ?     What  is  love  ?"  he  fain  would  know, 
Yet  blushed  to  ask  it,  for  he  could  see 

What  pardonless  ignorance  he  must  show ; 

But  she  calmly  answered  him,  speaking  slow, 
"  Why,  Love  is  nothing,  you  know,"  said  she. 


The  sun  of  that  summer  day  ia  set ; 

That  season  is  gone,  as  seasons  go  ; 
But  his  heart  was  caught  in  that  tennis  net, 
And  they  might  have  been  playing  partners  yet 

Had  she  not  given  her  answer,  "  No." 

He  plays  no  tennis  at  all,  this  year, 

But  he  mopes  and  moans  and  sighs— heigho ! 

That  fate  is  so  hard,  and  life  is  so  drear ; 

And  worse  than  all  else,  he  remembers  clear, 
That  "  Love  is  nothing,"  she  told  him  so. 

C.  F.  COBURN. 


Daniel  in  the  lions*  deh.  115 


DANIEL  IN  THE  LIONS'  DEN. 


WERE  you  ever  left  alone  for  an  hour  .Tith  a  cliild  ? 
Not  one  of  these  pale,  spirituelle  children  that 
we  read  about,  who  talk  with  horrible  grammatical 
accuracy,  and  know  more  than  an  average  p]iiloso{)her, 
but  a  bright,  healthy,  rebellious  child,  who  believes  that 
buttei-flies  were  created  to  stick  pins  through,  and  that 
the  best  use  a  fly  can  be  put  to  is  to  mash  him  in  the 
corner  of  a  Avindow  pane. 

In  fact,  the  common  child  of  eight  years  old. 

I  was  placed  in  such  a  fix  the  other  Sunday  after- 
noon. I  was  visiting  my  sister,  and  she  and  her  hus- 
band went  to  church.  In  vain  they  tried  to  induce  me 
to  go,  but  somehow  the  green  grass,  the  fleecy  sky,  and 
the  balmy  breath  of  the  summer's  breeze  seemed  far 
more  preferable. 

"  Well,"  decided  my  sister,  "  if  you  will  stay  home — 
you  can  take  care  of  Freddie." 

By  way  of  explanation,  let  me  remark  that  Freddie 
is  my  sister's  only  boy,  the  light  of  her  eyes  and  the 
pride  of  her  heart.  I  fondly  believe  she  intends  him 
for  the  ministry.  If  she  does,  she  will  make  a  mistake. 
It  is  my  firm  conviction  that  Freddie  was  cut  out  for  a 
first-class  pirate. 

So  it  was  decided  that  I  should  take  care  of  Freddie. 

I  had  taken  care  of  Freddie  before.  T  think  v,  ith- 
out  exaggeration  that  I  should  liave  Tireferred  being 
appointed  guardian  over  several  hyenas  and  a  fero- 
cious bear. 

I  determined  to  chain  Freddie  to  my  side. 


116  DANIEL   IN   THE   LIONS'    DEN. 

I  knew  that  if  I  didn't  he  would  either  stroll  down 
to  the  barn  and  try  to  chop  his  fingers  ofi'  with  the  hay- 
cutter,  or  else  fall  into  the  cistern.  Falling  into  the 
cistern  was  a  temptation  irresistible  to  Freddie. 

After  his  parents  had  departed,  leaving  Freddie 
richer  by  a  score  of  kisses,  I  called  him  to  my  side, 
where  I  lay,  pipe  in  hand,  on  the  close-cropped  grass, 
beneath  the  shade  of  a  grand  old  tree. 

"  Freddie,"  asked  I,  "  don't  you  want  to  hear  a 
Btory  ?" 

"  Ye-s,"  doubtfully  responded  Freddie  ;  "  say,  Uncle 
Ed,  what  makes  you  have  so  many  pimples  on  youi' 
face  •?" 

I  hastily  replied  that  it  was  goodness  cropping  out. 
All  good  men  were  apt  to  have  pimples. 

"  What  sort  of  a  story  would  you  like  to  hear,  Fred- 
die ?"  continued  I. 

"  Want  to  hear  about  giants  who  eat  bad  little  boys," 
answered  he,  Avith  unexpected  celerity. 

Owing  to  the  nature  of  the  day  I  told  him  that  giant 
stories  were  positively  debarred. 

"  Let  mc  tell  you  about  Daniel  in  the  Lions'  Den," 
I  hurriedly  said.  "  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  good 
man  named  Daniel." 

"  Daniel  who  ?"  asked  Freddie. 

"  Just  Daniel." 

"  Daniel  what  ?" 

Somewhat  impatiently  I  said  that  I  did  not  kno^» 
what  his  last  name  was.  I  had  never  studied  Daniel's 
family  tree. 

"  Did  he  have  a  glass  eye  like  old  Daniel  Riley  ?" 
Freddie  queried. 

Hastily  I  said  "  No,"  and  went  on  with  the  story. 


DANIEL   IN   THE   LIOXS*    DEN.  117 

''Daniel  wiis  carried  away  from  Jerusalem  by  a 
wicked  king." 

"  What  was  he  carried  in  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Freddie." 

"  Was  it  a  horse  car  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Steamboat  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Did  he  walk  himself?" 

"  I  guess  so." 

"  Who  carried  him  ?" 

"  The  wicked  king." 

"  What  wicked  king  ?" 

"  Nebuchadnezzar." 

"  Neboch— who  ?" 

"  Nebuchadnezzar." 

"  Who  was  he  ?" 

"  The  wicked  king." 

"  What  did  he  do  ?" 

"  Carried  Daniel  into  captivity/* 

"  What  Daniel  ?" 

I  had  to  begin  all  over  again.  I  said  it  slow  so  aa  Ko 
impress  Freddie. 

"  Nebuchadnezzar,"  resumed  I,  "  was  so  pleased  with 
Daniel's  goodness  that  he  made  iiim  his  favorite." 

"  Was  he  good  ?"  Freddie  asked. 

"  Very." 

"  Never  cried  when  his  nurse  washed  him  V 

"  Well— hardly  ever." 

"  Who  was  pleiised  because  he  was  so  good  f 

"  Nebuchadnezzar." 

"  Who  W!i8  he  '!' 

**  The  wicked  king.*' 


118  DANIirL    IN   THE   LIONS'    DKN. 

"Wluitdidhedo?" 

'*  Carried  away  Daniel,  I  told  you." 

"  What  Daniel  ?" 

•*  Freddie,"  expostulated  I, "  why  don't  you  j)ay  atte»« 
tion  ?     I  told  you  three  times  now  who  Daniel  was." 

"  Oh  !"  exclaimed  Freddie,  "  go  on.  You've  got  a 
hole  in  your  stocking,  Uncle  Ed." 

"  Nebuchadnezzar,"  I  began  again,  not  noticing 
Freddie's  personal  interpolation,  "  w  as  so  pleased  with 
Daniel " 

" Ho !"  interrupted  Freddie,  with  a  snicker,  "I  know 
about  Nebuchadnezzar," 

"  What  do  you  know  ?" 

"  Nebuchadnezzar — kiug  of  the  Jews, 
Put  on  his  stockings  and  pulled  off  his  shoes," 

Bneeringly  he  chanted,  witli  a  face  as  grave  as  a  tomb' 
stone. 

I  gasped  on  with  my  story. 

"  Daniel,"  I  said,  "  would  not  do  wrong  to  please  the 
king ;  so  the  wicked  king  had  him  thrown  into  the  den 
of  tierce  lions." 

"  Did  the  lions  belong  to  Barnum's  circus  ?"  asked 
Freddie. 

"  No,  they  were  the  king's." 

"  What  king's  ?" 

"  Nebuchadnezzar's/* 

"  Who  was  he  ?" 

"  Daniel's  master," 

"  What  Daniel  ?" 

"  The  good  man." 

"  Was  he  put  into  the  lions'  den?* 

"Yes," 


DANIEL   IX   THE   LIONS'   DBN.  119 

"  Whose  liuus  were  they  ?" 

"  Nebuchadnezzar's." 

"Did  they  bite?" 

"  No,  they  would  not  bite  Daniel." 

"Why  not — didn't  they  have  teeth  like  old  Mrs. 
Peters?     Billy  Smith  calls  her  gummy." 

I  told  Freddie  tliat  it  war.  very  shiiul  to  speak  in 
such  terms  of  the  aged,  and  that  Billy  Smith's  future 
career  w  as  apt  to  end  in  a  wicked  way. 

"  Although  the  king  expected  to  see  Daniel  torn  to 
pieces,  yet  he  was  not,"  related  I ;  "  they  crouched  be- 
fore him." 

"  Who  crouched  ?" 

"  The  lions." 

"  Who  did  they  crouch  before?" 

"Him." 

"  Who's  him— Billy  Smith  f ' 

"  No,  Daniel." 

"What  Daniel?" 

«  The  good  man." 

"  What  good  man  ?" 

"  Daniel." 

"  Daniel  who  ?" 

Utterly  despairing,  I  began  a  violent  fecture  to  Fred- 
die about  the  absolute  necessity  of  his  paying  attention 
In  the  midst  I  stopped.  I  suddenly  became  aware  Fred- 
die was  missing.     He  had  faded  suddenly  away. 

Five  miiuitcs  later  I  beheld  Freddie  out  in  the  dirt- 
iest part  of  the  barnyard,  trying  to  shear  the  biggest 
cow  with  his  mother's  pet  pair  of  toilet  scissors. 

"  Uncle  Ed's  stories  ain't  no  good,"  I  heard  him  con- 
fide to  the  placid  and  utterly  unmoved  animal  "  I 
thiitk  it's  because  he's  got  a  crooked  no.se — don't  you  ?" 

E  E  Ten  Eyck. 


120  THE   PARENT    WITH    THE    HOOP. 

THE  PARENT  WITH  THE  HOOP. 


WHEN  the  yellow  stars  are  weeping  shining  teare  sf 
molten  gold 
And  tiie  wings  of  night  in  tenderness  the  weary  earth 

enfold, 
'Tis  a  joy  to  clasp  the  maiden  whom  my  soul  has  sworn 

to  wed, 
Unmindful  of  the  dreadful  boots  that  jiatter  overhead. 

Every  loving  glance  that  flutters  in  the  portals  of  hei 

eyes 
Sinks  deep  down  in  my  heart,  and  turns  its  fountains 

into  sighs  ; 
And  her  kisses,  timid  pressures,  shake  my  system  to  the 

roots 
As  I  listen  to  the  pathos  of  her  aged  parent's  boots. 

And  looking  far  beyond  her  through  the  trials  of  this 

earth, 
I  see  the  happiness  to  which  her  eyes  have  given  birth, 
And   the  softened,  sweet   ambition   paralyzes   worldly 

cares. 
Till  I  hear  the  old  man's    footsteps  swiftly  creeping 

down  the  stairs. 

In  her  twining  arms  I  linger,  bound  in  chains  of  welded 

flowers, 
And  I  never  note  the  dying  of  the  angry,  jealous  hours. 
All  the  slings  and  poisoned  arrows  of  the  stem  world 

stand  aloof 
Till  I  find  myself  uplifted  by  that  wretched  parent's 

hoot 


A   SIMILAR   CASK.  121 

There  i>s  naught  in  art  or  nature  tliat  can  work  with 

such  a  spell 
As  the  hux-toc  of  a  parent,  pro})er1  y  a|)jilicd  and  well ; 
And  I  ponder  long  and  deeply  whether  1  should  pres» 

my  suit 
For  the  girl,  or  one  at  law  against  the  savage  with  th§ 

boot. 


A  SIMILAR  CASE. 


JACK,  I  hear  you've  gone  and  done  it. 
Yes,  I  know ;  most  fellows  will ; 
Went  and  tried  it  once  myself,  sir. 
Though,  you  see,  I'm  single  still. 
And  you  met  her — did  you  tell  ue' 

Down  at  Newport,  last  July, 
And  resolved  to  ask  the  t^uestioD 
At  a  soiree  ?     So  did  I. 

I  suppose  you  left  the  ball-room 
With  its  music  and  its  light; 
For  they  say  love's  flame  is  brightest 
In  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

Well,  you  walked  along  together- 
Overhead  the  starlit  sky, 
And  I'll  bet — old  man,  confess  it — 
You  were  frightened.    So  was  L 

So  you  strolled  along  the  terrace. 

Saw  the  summer  moonlight  pour 
All  its  radiance  on  the  waters 
As  they  rippled  on  the  shore ; 


V^J2  THE    BURGLAR    A.LARM, 

Till  at  length  you  gathered  courage, 
When  you  saw  that  noue  were  nigh— -- 

Did  you  draw  her  close  and  tell  her 
That  you  loved  her  ?     So  did  L 

Well,  I  needn't  ask  you  further. 
And  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  joy  ; 
Think  I'll  wander  down  and  see  you 
When  you're  married — eh,  my  boy  ? 
When  the  honeymoon  is  over, 

And  you're  settled  down,  we'll  try — 
What  ?     The  deuce  you  say  I     Kejected, 
You  rejected  ?     So  was  1. 


THE  BURGLAR  ALARM. 
A  woman's  bright  invention. 


MR.  FILLISY  came  home  in  hot  haste.     Important 
business  called  him  out  of  town  within  an  hour  a 
time. 

"  Oh,  dear !"  sighed  Mrs.  Fillisy,  as  she  undertook  to 
restore  to  order  the  chaos  of  Mr.  Fillisy's  search 
through  closets  and  bureaus  for  the  "  few  things  "  he 
considered  necessary  to  his  comfort — "  what  shall  I  do  ? 
It's  almost  dark,  and  nobody  in  the  house  but  the  new 
girl,  and  I  haven't  time  to  go  to  mother's,  and  I  am  so 
afraid.  Josiah  knows  it,  too.  Why  didn't  he  leave  me 
a  pistol  or  something?  I  never  shot  off  a  pistol,  and 
don't  know  wliat  the  trigger  is  ;  but  I'm  sure  I  should 
feel  safer  if  I  had  one.  How  dreadflil  it  would  be  to 
be  murdered  here  all  alone,  and  Josiah  to  come  home 
and  find  me  weltering  in  my  gore  i     Ugh  1"  and  Mrs, 


THE    BUKOLAU    ALAIC.M.  tH 

Fiilisy  enjoyed  a  good  shiver  over  tlic  sauguiuary  pic- 
ture she  had  (•oujured  up. 

But  supper  wiu?  auuouuced  at  that  momcut,  and  it 
was  uot  till  after  the  two  little  oues  were  suugly  tucked 
in  bed  that  she  had  leisure  to  retieet  upon  lier  lonely 
and  unprotected  state. 

"  I  dou't  see  why  Josiah  hasn't  liad  burglar  alarois 
put  in  the  house.  It  would  be  so  much  better.  I'll 
talk,  to  him  when  he  comes  home.  I  wonder  what 
thev're  like,  anyway?  Alarm  clocks,  I  suppose,  and 
that  sort  of  thing.  Now  why  couldn't  one  invent  some- 
thing simpler  ?     1  wonder "  and  here  Mrs.  Fillisy's 

thoughts  were  arrested  by  a  bright  idea. 

She  was  seated  by  the  stove,  and  her  glance  fell  upon 
the  wire  guard  which  kept  the  wee  toddlers  from  too 
close  contact  with  its  glowing  surface. 

"The  very  thing !"  she  exclaimed.  "I'll  invent  an 
alarm  myself.  Talk  about  women  having  no  inventive 
genius.  I'll  have  Josiah  apply  for  a  patent  the  moment 
ke  gets  home.  Now,  I'll  just  get  it  and  try,  and  if  any 
burglar  undertakes  to  get  in  here  to-night  he'll  just 
wish  he  hadn't,  that's  all ! 

"Turn  te  turn  te  turn  te  iddity, 
Turn  te  turn  te  turn  te  Uiy, 
Tuin  te  turn  te  turn  te  iddity, 

I'll  be  an  inventor  myself  some  day." 

And  Mrs.  Fillisy  started  up  in  high  glee. 

After  considerable  pushing  and  hauling  about  in  a 
closet  under  the  stairs,  she  brought  to  view  a  large  coil 
of  barbed  wire,  in  which  ^NIi-.  F.  had  the  previous  sum- 
mer invented  for  the  purpose  of  surmounting  hid  orchard 
fence. 


124  THE    BURGLAK   ALARM. 

"Now  isn't  it  lucky  that  Josiah  didn't  use  thia?  l! 
he  had,  I  couldn't  have  shown  him  what  a  smart  wife 
he  has.  I'll  show  them !  Ouch  !  What  mean  stuff  it 
is  to  handle !  But  all  the  better  for  ]Mr.  Burglar.  Now 
where'll  I  put  it  first  ?" 

Mi-s.  Fillisy  pondered  deeply,  with  all  the  gravity 
worthy  of  a  great  inventor,  and  at  last  decided  that 
as  the  hired  girl  had  gone  to  bed,  and  there  was  no 
one  but  herself  about,  she  would  build  such  a  wall  of 
barbed  wire  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  as  no  burglar  could 
possibly  surmount.  But  when  she  had  wound  it  around 
the  newel-post,  with  many  "  Ah's "  and  "  Oh's,"  she 
found  that  the  wire  wouldn't  fasten  itself  to  the  wall, 
and  as  for  this  brave  inventor's  making  a  long  and 
lonesome  journey  into  the  wood-shed  for  hammer  and 
nail — no,  indeed,  she  wouldn't.  She  would  show  Josiah 
that  a  woman's  mind  could  triumph  over  matter. 

"  No  man  would  think  of  this,"  she  said  to  herself, 
as  she  proceeded  to  fasten  the  wire  in  and  out  of  the 
claw-feet  that  held  the  stair-rods  in  position.  "  Dear 
me,  it's  slow  work ;  but  then  all  problems  are  slow  of 

solution,  and  Mrs.  F ,  you  mustn't  be  too  smart  an 

inventor.  I  wonder  what  folks  'ill  do  who  haven't  got 
stair-rods  ?  Get  some,  I  suppose ;  or,  maybe,  now, 
when  Josiah  comes  home  he  can  think  of  something  to 
hold  the  wire  down,  anyway.  Ouch !  just  see  my 
fingers  bleed !  Horrid  stuff!  I  wonder  how  Mr. 
Burglar  will  like  that." 

And  Mrs.  Fillisy  surveyed  with  honest  pride  the  work 
of  her  fertile  brain  and  nimble,  but  wounded  fingers. 

She  had  contrived,  by  dint  of  twisting  and  turning 
the  barbed  wire  in  every  shape  and  direction,  to  create 
a  perfect  battery  of  needle  points  on  the  lower  step. 


THE    BURGLAR   ALARM.  124 

"  You  couldn't  put  your  finc^er  down  without  get- 
ting prickwl,"  she  soliloquized  as  she  attacked  the 
next  step.  "  Now  you  see  a  person  might  have  a 
carpet  of  this,  that  she  could  spread  down  before  ^^•in• 
dows  and  dooi-s,  and  if  a  burglar  were  to  step  real  hard 
on  it  he'd  surely  have  to  scream,  and  that  would  wake 
one  ;  and  then,  while  he  was  nursing  his  foot,  why  one 
could  shoot  him,  or  catch  him,  or  something.  Oh,  dear, 
there's  another  scratch  I  What  awful  hard  work  it  is  to 
be  an  inventor." 

And  Mi's.  Fillisy  stuck  her  finger  in  her  mouth  and 
eighed  deeply.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  before  she  had 
completed  her  net-work  of  wire  upon  the  last  step, 
and  then,  too  tired  to  do  as  she  had  intended — stretch 
the  wire  across  her  bed-room  door — she  contented  her- 
self with  rolling  the  dressing-case  against  the  door,  and 
retired,  convinced  that  no  burglar  would  set  foot  inside 
her  room  that  night. 

But  hardly  had  she  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow  when 
there  sounded  from  the  little  cot  beside  her  the  wail, 
"  I  want  a  drink  !    I  want  a  drink  !    I'se  awful  tliirsty." 

Merciful  sakes !  she  had  forgotten,  in  her  interest  in 
her  invention,  to  bring  up  any  water!  "  There,  there, 
darling !    Now  go  to  sleep  !    That's  mamma's  pet." 

"  I  'on't !  I  want  a  drink  !  I  can't  go  to  seep  Avidout 
a  drink." 

"  Oh,  dear !  There's  no  help  for  it,  I  suppose.  How- 
ever in  this  world  am  I  to  get  down  those  stairs  ?" 

Taking  the  night-lamp  in  her  hand,  she  surveyed  the 
situation.  "The  only  way  is  to  slide  down."  And, 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she  imitated  the  riotous 
schoolboy  in  his  wild  flight  through  space.  8he  reached 
the  lower  floor  safely  enough,  albeit  somewhat  jarred 


126  THE    BURGLAK    ALARM, 

by  her  unaccustomed  locomotion ;  but  when  she  had 
filled  her  pitcher  aud  retraced  her  steps  to  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  she  regarded  the  proofs  of  her  inventive 
genius  with  horrified  dismay. 

From  the  dim  regions  above  came  the  wail,  "  I  want 
a  drink,"  while  the  chorus  of  a  still  smaller  voice  filled 
the  night  with  the  music  of  its  "  Meows,  meows." 

"  Yes,  darling,  mother  is  coming."  But  how  ?  She 
couldn't  slide  up !  Beside,  her  liands  were  full.  But 
those  clamorous  voices  called  forth  every  energy,  and, 
leaving  her  lamp  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  she  crept  up 
elowly,  hand  over  hand,  foot  over  foot,  on  the  outside  of 
the  bannister,  and,  groping  her  way  to  her  room,  quieted 
the  voice  with  the  few  drops  of  water  remaining  in  the 
pitcher,  and  then  went  down,  in  another  wild  flight 
after  her  lamp. 

Worn  out  with  her  exertions,  when  she  once  more 
reached  her  room,  she  fell  asleep  almost  immediately. 
She  was  awakened  a  little  later  by  a  shi-ill  scream  of 
"  Howly  Moses  !  Oh,  wurra,  wurra  !  It's  a  murtherin' 
snake,  it  is !"  and,  jumping  up  bewildered,  she  recog- 
nized Bridget's  voice  in  tlie  hall. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Bridget  ?" 

"  Shure,  and  matther  is  it  ?  It's  a  snake,  or  some 
other  murtherin'  baste  has  hurted  me  fut  that  bad! 
musha !  musha  !"  and  Bridget  sat  on  the  hall  floor 
rolling  from  side  to  side  and  holding  her  wounded  foot 
in  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  no,  Bridget,  it's  only  the  burglar  alarm.  1 
forgot  to  tell  you  about  it.  See,  my  hands  are  all  cut 
up  by  it,  too  ;  but  it'll  keep  burglai*s  away." 

"  Burglar  alarm,  is  it,  tbin  ?  An'  who  put  it  there,  if 
yez  plaze  ?"    By  this  time  Bridget  was  standing  erw* 


THE    BULGLAR   ALARM.  127 

fiiid  glaring   at   her   mistress   with   vengeance  In   hel 
eyes, 

"  Why,  I  did  I  You  see  Mr.  Fillisy  is  gone  away  and 
1  wanted  to  feel  safe — " 

"  Shure  an'  it's  safe  yez  are  from  this  night  on.  I'll 
be  lavin'  yez  in  the  mornin'.  I  never  worked  afore 
where  a  dacent  gurrul  couldn't  go  down  the  stairs  for  a 
bit  of  clove  ile  to  put  in  her  achin'  tooth  widout  steppin 
on  a  burglar  alarm  and  havin'  her  feet  hurted  that  bad ! 
Shure  an'  I'll  be  afther  laviu'  in  the  mornin',  ma'am," 
and  Bridget  limped  toward  licr  room  in  a  state  of  un- 
appeasable indignation. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,  Bridget ;  I  didn't  think,"  began  Mrs. 
Fillisy,  depreeatiugly. 

"  Shure,  an'  ye'll  think  in  the  mornin',  ma'am,"  and 
Bridget  banged  her  door  with  a  force  that  shut  off  all 
further  explanations. 

Mrs.  Fillisy  retired  to  bed  to  weep  ;  she  liad  been  at 
such  pains  to  procure  Bridget,  who  had  been  recom- 
mended as  very  efficient  help,  and  whose  culinary  pow- 
ere  Mr.  Fillisy  had  especially  praised  that  very  day. 
How  angry  Josiah  would  be  wJien  he  came  home  and 
found  Bridcjet  gone.  Dear!  dear!  and  all  because  of 
that  burglar  alarm  ! 

Somehow  her  pride  in  her  invention  began  to  wane. 
She  wasn't  quite  so  sure  now  that  Josiah  would  be  pre- 
pared to  admit  tliat  woman  had  as  much  genius  as  her 
80-called  lord  and  master. 

She  was  crying  silently  over  her  trials  when  suddenly 
ehe  heard  a  sound  that  caused  every  individual  hair  on 
her  head  to  stand  erect.  Somebody  was  at  the  front 
door !  She  couldn't  be  mistaken  !  There  I  it  opened  ! 
aud  y^,  hear  those  stealthy  steps  along  the  hall,  and 


12S  THE    BURGLAR   ALARM. 

there  goes  the  sitting-room  door!  Oh  dear!  There's  q 
burglar  in  the  house  for  certain  !  How  frightened  she 
was !  There  !  she  heard  him  moving  cautiously  about  in 
the  sitting-room.  What  could  he  be  doing  ?  Getting 
the  silver  ?  Searching  for  money  ?  Oh !  she  did  hope 
she  wouldn't  be  murdered  !  Poor  Josiah  would  feel  so 
bad.  And  then  she  thought  all  at  once  of  the  burglar 
alarm. 

"  Ha !  I  have  thee  now !"  she  quoted,  mentally. 
"  One  step  and  thou  art  doomed."  Then  she  laughed — 
then  listened.  Another  step.  A  bold  burglar,  cer- 
tainly. He  must  know  she  was  alone.  She  ceased 
laughing.  Still  another  step  1  "  Thunder  and  Mars !" 
came  in  muffled  tones  up  the  stairs  and  along  the  hall. 
Merciful  heaven !  he  was  coming  in.  "  Great  Scott ! 
Jerusalem!  Ten  thousand  furies!  Sulphur  and  brim- 
stone !"  was  wafted  to  her  ears  in  half  smothered  tones. 
She  waited  to  hear  no  more.  She  sprang  from  her  bed, 
and  putting  her  mouth  to  the  crack  in  the  door,  called 
out : 

"  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Burglar,  do  go  away !  Take  any-, 
thing  you  want ;  there's  plenty  of  silver  down-stairs, 
and  my  watch  and  jewel  case  are  in  the  cabinet  with 
the  silver  trimmings.  Take  them  all ;  you  are  welcome 
to  them,  indeed  you  are ;  and  if  there's  anything  else 
down-stairs — but  please  don't  kill  me,  Josiah  would  feel 
BO  bad — and,  and — if  you  are  going  down  be  careful 
not  to  hurt  your  feet — " 

But  she  Avas  interrupted  by  a  terrific  howl  of:  "  Great 
guns!  Martha,  it's  me.  What  in  thunder  ails  these 
atairg  ?  Some  darned  thing  or  another  has  cut  my  feet 
all  to  pieces.  Open  the  door,  quick,  can't  you?  Piri 
bleeding  to  death!  Quick,  I  gay!  Ain't  you  got  no 


THE    BURGLAR   ALARM.  12t 

sense  I  Let  a  fellow  stand  here  and  lose  his  life  blood 
because  you're  afraid  of  some  fool  burglar !  I  want  to 
see  what  the  blasted  thing  is.  I  hope  I  ain't  poisoned. 
Maybe  it's  a  scorpion  or  a  tarantula,  or — or — " 

"  Oh,  no  !  Josiah,  it's  only  the  burglar  alarm.  Yoi 
see,  I — "  began  Mrs.  Fillisy,  throwing  the  door  open, 
and  letting  the  light  fall  on  Josiah,  who  stood  midway 
on  the  stall's,  vainly  endeavoring  to  hold  both  feet  in 
hi3  hands  at  once. 

"  Oh  !  oh !  oh !  Confound  your  old  burglar  alarm  ! 
What  in  creation's  name  is  it  anyway  ?  It's  killing  me. 
I  can't  stand  nor  sit  down,  nor — nor  anything." 

"  Climb  on  to  the  bannister,  Josiah,  I  did." 

"  Climb  on  to  the  bannister,  woman !  And  so  you've 
been  playin'  circus  while  I  have  been  away.  I  thought 
when  I  married  you  I  had  found  a  woman  of  discretion ; 
but  it  seems  I  was  mistaken.  You're  like  all  the  rest. 
Sliding  down  the  bannister,  indeed  !  Now  tell  me  what 
all  this  confounded  nonsense  means,"  said  Josiah,  perch- 
ing himself  astride  the  bannister,  and  eying  his  wife 
malignantly. 

"  Oh,  Josiah,  indeed  I  haven't  been  playing  circus 
at  all,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  F.,  bursting  into  tears.  "  I — 1 
— was  afraid,  and  so  I — I — invented  a  burglar  alarm, 
and — and — I  never  dreamed  of  your  coming  home — 
but  I  thought  if  a  burglar  should  get  in,  it  would  pre 
vent  his  getting  up-stairs,  and — and  I  guess  it  svould." 
And  she  smiled  ruefully  upon  the  barbed  points  at  her 
feet. 

"  Stars  and  garters  !  Prophets  and  conjurers !  Whea 
will  woiiioi-.  cease  to  be  fools?"  and  the  representative  of 
the  world's  wisdom  shifted  uneasily  in  his  enforced  po- 
sition. 


130  AN   IDYL   OF   THE   PERIOD. 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  me,  oh,  great  inventoi.  howo 
am  I  to  get  up  these  stairs  ?  My  stockings  are  already 
plastered  with  blood  to  ray  poor  feet !" 

"  Clini])  up  the  railing  on  the  outside,  like  this,"  and 
she  showed  him,  by  example,  how  easily  he  could  gain 
the  upper  landing !  When  once  there,  he  turned  spite- 
fully to  his  wife  with  the  words : 

"  Martha  Ann  Fillisy,  you  are  the  biggest  fool  I  evef 
saw  !  If  you  ever  invent  another  thing,  I'll  shut  you  up 
in  a  lunatic  asylum  !"  Birch  Arnold. 


.AN  IDYL  OF  THE  PERIOD. 
IN  TWO  PARTS. 


PART   I. 

"/^OME  right  in.     How  are  you,  Fred  f 
VJ     Find  a  chair,  and  get  a  light." 

**  Well,  old  man,  recovered  yet 

From  the  Mather's  jam  last  night  V 

**  Didn't  dance.     The  German's  old.'* 

"  Didn't  you  ?     I  had  to  lead — 
Aw'ful  bore  !     Did  you  go  home  ?" 

"  N'o.     Sat  out  with  Molly  Meade. 
Jolly  little  girl  she  is — 

Said  she  didn't  care  to  dance, 
'D  rather  sit  and  talk  to  me — 

Then  she  gave  me  such  a  glance  I 

"  So,  when  you  had  cleared  the  roojaj 
And  impounded  all  the  chairs, 

Having  noAvhere  else,  we  two 
Took  possession  of  the  stairs. 


AF   IDYL   OF   THE   PERIOD.  tXk 

**  I  was  on  the  lower  step, 

Molly,  on  the  next  above, 
Gave  me  her  bouquet  to  hold, 

Asked  mc  to  undo  her  glove. 
Then,  of  course,  I  squeezed  her  hand. 

Talked  about  my  wasted  life ; 
*  Ah  !  if  J.  could  only  win 

Some  true  woman  for  my  wife, 
How  I'c^  love  her — work  for  her ! 

Hand  in  hand  through  life  we'd  walk-" 
No  one  ever  cared  for  me — ' 

Takes  a  girl,  that  kind  of  talk. 

**  Then,  you  know,  I  used  my  eyes — 

She  believed  me,  every  word — 
Said  I  '  mustn't  talk  so  ' — Jove  1 

Such  a  voice  you  never  heard. 
Gave  me  some  symbolic  flower, — 

Had  a  meaning,  oh  !  so  sweet, — 
Don't  know  where  it  is,  I'm  sure  ; 

Must  have  dropped  it  in  the  street. 

**  How  I  spooned  !  And  she — ha  I  haI-«» 

Well,  I  know  it  wasn't  right — 
But  she  pitied  me  so  much 

That  I — kissed  her — pass  a  light  I" 

PART    II. 

**  Molly  Meade,  well  I  declare  ! 

Who'd  have  thought  of  seeing  yoa. 
After  what  occurred  la.st  night, 

Oui  here  on  the  Avenue  ? 


1S2  AN   IDYL   OF   THE   PERIOD. 

Oh,  you  awful !  awful  girl ! 

There,  don't  blush  ;  I  saw  it  all." 
"  Saw  all  what  ?"     "  Ahem  !  last  nighfe- 

At  the  Mather's — iu  the  hall." 

"  Oh,  you  horrid— where  were  you  ? 

W  asu't  he  the  biggest  goose  1 
Most  men  must  be  caught,  but  he 

Ran  his  own  neck  in  the  noose. 

"  I  was  almost  dead  to  dance, 

I'd  have  done  it  if  I  could, 
But  old  Gray  said  I  must  stop, 

And  I  promised  ma  I  would. 
So  I  looked  up  sweet,  and  said 

That  I'd  rather  talk  to  him  ; 
Hope  he  didn't  see  me  laugh. 

Luckily  the  lights  were  dim. 

**  My,  how  he  did  squeeze  my  hand! 

And  he  looked  up  in  my  face 
With  his  lovely,  big  brown  eyes— 

Really  it's  a  dreadful  case. 

*♦ '  Earnest !' — I  should  think  he  was  I 

Why,  I  thouglit  I'd  have  to  laugJi 
When  he  kissed  a  flower  he  took, 

Looking,  oh  I  like  such  a  calf. 
I  suppose  he's  got  it  now 

In  a  wine-glass  on  his  shelves ; 
It's  a  mystery  to  me 

Why  men  will  deceive  themselves. 

«• '  Saw  him  kiss  me  ?'— Oh,  you  wretch 
Well,  he  begged  so  hard  for  one — 

And  I  thought  there'd  no  one  know- 
So  I— 4et  him,  just  for  fun. 


burdock's  music-box.  J3S 

*!  know  it  really  waon't  right 

To  triile  -with  his  feelings,  dear, 
But  men  are  such  stuck-up  things  ; 

He'll  recover — never  fear." 

George  A.  Bakeb. 


BURDOCK'S  MUSIC-BOX. 


LAST  Christmas  Miss  Burdock's  admirer  presented 
her  with  a  iiandsome  little  music-box,  and  the 
family  ?ar  has  been  tickled  ever  since  with  half-a-dozen 
of  the  latest  popular  agonies. 

Tuesday  night  they  had  company,  and  the  music-box, 
after  doing  gloriously  for  awhile,  suddenly  collapsed  at 
the  first  vei-se  of  the  "  Mulligan  Guards,"  leaving  the 
balance  of  that  gallant  command  in  a  sort  of  musical 
purgatory. 

The  next  morning  Miss  Burdock  dressed  her  face 
with  its  company  expression,  and  coaxed  her  paternal 
to  take  the  box  with  him  w'hen  he  went  to  business  and 
have  it  put  in  order,  and  on  his  finally  consenting  under 
protest  v.-rappod  it  up  neatly,  placed  it  in  his  overcoat 
pocket,  and  hustled  him  off. 

He  caught  a  Fulton  Avenue  car,  nodded  to  a  couple 
of  business  accjuaintances,  secured  a  seat,  and  was  in 
the  act  of  opening  the  morning  pa})er,  when  the  music- 
box  suddenly  found  its  voice  again  and  proceeded  to 
render  the  remaining  verses  of  the  "  Mulligan  Guards." 

The  pas.scngers  dropped  their  papera,  stared  around 
at  one  another,  and  finally,  tracing  the  music  to  Bur- 
dock, focused  their  eyes  upon  him,  nudged  each  otbei", 
aud  laughed. 


134  burdock's   MU3IC-B0X. 

"  No  music,  gentlemen,  'lowed  in  these  caors,"  called 
out  the  conductor,  sternly,  coming  in  to  collect  a  fare, 
just  as  the  box  rang  out  clear  and  loud  with  the  chorus. 

There  was  a  perfect  shout  of  laughter,  in  which 
everybody  except  Burdock  and  the  conductor  joined,  as 
the  box  suddenly  changed  its  tune  and  came  out  as 
titrong  as  a  circus  band  with  "  Meet  Me  in  the  Park, 
Love." 

"  Stop  that  music.  I  won't  have  such  foolishness 
going  on  in  this  car,"  yelled  the  conductor,  scrutinizing 
the  passengers  suspiciously  from  the  rear  platform. 

*  Confound  the  infernal  thing,  I  wish  it  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Red  Sea  !"  muttered  Burdock,  very  red 
in  the  face  and  uncomfortable. 

A  minute  later,  as  the  music-box  was  about  plunging 
into  a  third  song,  the  conductor  darted  in,  slapped  Bur- 
dock on  the  shoulder,  and  said,  excitedly  : 

"  I've  got  you  at  last.  Now  you  just  stop  it,  that's 
all !" 

"  Stop  it  yourself,  if  you  want  to,"  said  Burdock, 
angrily. 

The  conductor  frothed  and  fumed,  looked  under  the 
seat  and  behind  Burdock,  but  could  see  nothing,  yet  all 
the  while  the  box  was  everlastingly  howltng  out "  Ei- 
leen Alanna,"  as  if  its  heart  would  break.  By  the 
time  the  car  reached  the  ferr}'',  Burdock  was  in  a  cold 
perspiration,  the  irate  conductor  had  checked  off  seven 
passengers  too  many,  and  was  tearing  his  hair  on  the 
platform,  and  the  box,  after  going  through  its  entire 
collection  of  tunes,  looked  as  quiet  and  innocent  as  a 
rubber  baby. 

It  required  Burdock  to  use  up  all  his  spare  stock  of 
self-ectfitrol  to  prevent  him  from  heaving  it  into  the 


burdock's  music-box.  135 

river,  and  it  was  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  he  handed  it 
over  to  be  fixed. 

Saturday,  on  his  way  home,  he  stopped  at  the  place 
where  he  had  left  it,  and  finding  it  repaired,  put  it  in 
the  pocket  of  his  overcoat,  and  started  off  home,  forget* 
ting  all  about  it  on  his  arrival  at  the  house. 

Sunday  ail  the  family  turned  out  for  church,  and 
Burdock  had  ushered  them  all  in,  closed  the  pew  door, 
hung  hi3  overcoat  over  it,  took  up  a  hymn-book,  and 
was  glancing  around  complacently,  when  the  fogotten 
music-box  in  his  overcoat  pocket  all  at  once  struck  up 
"  Lanigan's  Ball." 

The  minister  dropped  the  notices  he  was  looking  over 
and  looked  blankly  around  ;  the  deacons  sprang  up 
like  Jack-in-the-Box  and  glared  in  every  direction; 
the  congregation  twisted  their  heads,  craned  their  necks, 
and  stared  wondering] y  at  the  choir,  and  the  choir 
pulled  away  the  curtains  that  hid  them,  and  stared  idi- 
otically back  in  return.  The  Burdocks  alone  kept  their 
eyes  resolutely  glued  to  the  front,  while  their  faces  as- 
sumed the  fashionable  cardinal  hue,  and  Burdock  could 
be  heard  muttering  fragments  of  emphatic  language 
seldom  heard  inside  of  a  gospel  shop. 

After  playing  one  verse  the  melody  ceased,  and  the 
Burdocks'  hearts,  which  had  been  standing  still,  beat 
once  more ;  the  excitement  died  away,  and  everything 
was  quiet  again.  The  minister  arose,  and  was  in  the 
act  of  giving  out  the  text,  when  a  lady,  who  was  late, 
Bailed  up  the  aisle,  and,  chancing  to  brush  against  Bur- 
dock's overcoat,  started  the  music-box  off  into  a  perfect 
fury  of  "  Tommy,  Sit  Down  by  Your  Aunty." 

The  minister  paused,  and  frowned  severely  ;  the  dea- 
oona  sliot  up  from  their  seats  as  if  they  were  sitting  on 


1B6  burdock's  music-box. 

springs ;  tlie  congregation  tittered,  and  Burdock  felt 
Bick  all  over  him  as  he  made  a  savage  kick  at  his  coat, 
which  had  the  effect  of  changing  the  tune,  and  it  pealed 
forth  now  "  The  Night  Before  Larry  Was  Stretched," 
with  the  variations. 

Burdock  felt  that  every  eye  in  the  church  was  watch* 
ing  him  as  he  made  another  side  kick  at  it ;  a  subdued 
whirr  followed,  and  he  was  congratulating  himself  on 
havmg  hopelessly  ruined  it,  when  it  suddenly  broke  out 
louder  than  a  troupe  of  minstrels,  with  the  inspiring 
strains  of  the  "  Mulligan  Guards." 

By  the  time  it  had  played  two  verses  and  was  com- 
mencing the  third,  five  deacons  had  arrived  at  the  pew 
door,  and  were  interviewing  Burdock,  while  the  entire 
congregation  were  standing  up  on  their  toes  to  have  a 
look  at  him.  Burdock  tried  to  explain,  but  seven  new 
deacons  came  up  and  accused  him  of  sacrilege  and  des- 
ecration of  the  church. 

"  Go  to  thunder,  the  whole  caboodle  of  you !"  he  ex- 
claimed, climbing  over  the  back  of  the  seat  and  making 
for  the  door. 

One  of  the  deacons  followed  him  with  his  hat  and 
overcoat,  the  music-box  playing,  "  When  Johnny  Comes 
Marching  Home,"  right  merrily,  as  the  grave-faced  dea- 
fion  carried  it  at  arm's  length  down  the  middle  aisle. 

Burdock  and  his  family  are  attending  another  church 
now,  and  the  music-box  is  buried  under  four  tons  of  taX' 
ihracite  coal  in  the  cellar. 


FIRST   ADVENTURES   IN    ENGLAND.  137 

FIRST  ADVENTURES  IN  ENGLAND. 


YER  spakiu'  of  musther  was  a-moiudin'  rae  of  Mick 
Murphy  and  Dan  Collins,  two  frinds  of  moine, 
who  came  over  to  England  for  the  rapiu'  of  the  harvist, 
und  was  walkin'  on  the  quays  of  this  town.  And  moind 
ye  now,  uather  Micky  nor  Danny  had  iver  been  out  of 
the  corragus  of  the  town  of  Tipperary  in  all  their  born 
days.  They  were  goin'  along  the  strate,  whin  Danny 
sees  "  'Ristoi-ant "  writ  up  over  a  shop ;  "  See  now,"  says 
he,  "  that's  a  place  to  ate ;"  and  in  they  both  goes,  and 
thin,  sir,  they  sees  a  waither  with  a  towel  over  his  arm, 
and  says  Danny,  says  he,  "  What  kin  we  get  to  ate  ?" 
"  Anything  at  all,"  says  the  waither  ;  "  Thin  bring  me  a 
plate  of  mate,"  says  Danny  ;  so  in  comes  the  waither 
with  a  plate  of  mate  and  a  large  bowl  of  musther. 
"  What's  to  pay  for  the  mate '?"  says  Danny.  "  A 
shillin',  sir,"  says  the  waither.  ''And  what's  that?" 
says  he,  a-pointin'  to  the  bowl.  "  That's  musther," 
says  the  waither.  "  And  what  do  yez  do  with  it  ?" 
"  Why,  yez  ates  it  with  the  mate,  to  be  sure,"  says  he. 
"And  Avhat's  to  pay  for  it?"  "  Nothin'  at  all,"  says 
the  waither.  Thin  Danny  looked  at  Micky,  and  Micky 
looked  at  Danny,  and  they  both  winked.  Afther 
awhile  the  waither  turned  his  back,  and  says  Danny, 
says  he,  "  Micky,"  says  he,  "  we'll  pocket  the  mate  for 
the  journey  and  ate  the  stuff  they  gives  for  nothiu'." 
And  with  that  Micky  rowls  up  the  mate  in  his  hand- 
kercher  and  jnits  it  in  the  crown  of  Im  hat.  All  this 
toime  Danny  kept  stirrin'  up  the  nuisther,  and  afther 
awhile  he  opens  his  mouth  and  takes  a  great  dollop  of 
it ;  down  goei>  his  head,  and  the  tears  come  runiiin' 


138  ETHIOPIOMANIA. 

down  out  of  his  eyes.  Micky  looked  up  and  says  ha, 
"  Dauny,"  says  he,  "  what  does  be  the  matther  with  ye  ?" 
Danny  wouldn't  let  on  at  all,  at  all,  but  says  he, 
"  Whiniver  I  think  of  the  death  of  my  poor  great- 
grandfather, that  was  kilt  at  the  Battle  of  the  Boyne,  I 
can't  kape  from  cryin'  at  all,  at  all."  "  Och,  don't  take 
on  with  ye  like  that,"  says  Micky ;  "  see  now,  we  are 
over  in  England,  and  we'll  make  a  power  of  money  at 
the  rapin'  before  harvist  is  over."  All  this  toime 
Danny  kept  stirrin'  up  the  musther,  and  afther  awhile 
he  hands  the  spoon  to  Micky.  Micky  takes  a  spoon- 
ful, too ;  down  goes  his  head,  aud  the  tears  come  run- 
nin'  down  out  of  his  eyes.  Danny  looks  up,  and  says 
he,  "  Micky,"  says  he,  "  what  does  be  the  matther  with 
ye?"  "Faix,"  says  Micky,  "I  war  thinkin'  what  a  great 
pitty  it  war  that  ye  warn't  kilt  along  with  yer  great- 
grandfather at  the  Battle  of  the  Boyne." 


ETHIOPIOMANIA. 

[Vers  de  Society  (new  style).    Dedicated  to  a  fashionable  young  ladj 
who  plays  the  baujo.] 

PIANO  put  away 
In  de  garret  for  to  stay  ; 
De  baujo  is  de  music  dat  de  gals  am  crazed  about, 
De  songs  dat  now  dey  choose 
Am  'spired  by  de  colored  muse. 
An'  de  ole  kind  o'  poeckry  am  all  played  out. 

Chorus. — Oh,  Maud  Elaine, 

Sweet  as  sugar-cane  I 
Hush  dat  music,  let  my  poor  heart  go. 
Fo'  hit's  sweeter  dan  de  band 
To  heah  yo'  little  hand 
A-plunk-plunk-plunkin'  on  de  ole  banjo. 


THE   irishman's   FANL'KAMA.  138 

I  ain't  from  de  Souf ; 

But  yo'  pretty,  pretty  mouf 
Done  took  to  singiu'  darkey  songs  in  such  angelic  tone*. 

Dat  jist  fo'  yo'  sake 

I's  a  goin'  fo'  to  take 
Some  lessons  on  de  tamboi'iue,  an'  k^arn  to  play  de  bonea. 

Oh,  when  Maudie  sings 

And  })icks  'pon  de  strings, 
Twould  charm  a  deaf-and-dunimy,  or  a  possum  from  a 
tree. 

She  holds  dat  banjo  so, 

In  her  arms  as  white  as  snow, 
I'd  gib  a  half  a  dollah  if  dat  in.<trument  was  me! 

So  play,  play  an'  sing, 
For  de  banjo  am  de  king, 
Its  music  brings  de  belles  an'  beaux  a  knockia'  at  de 
doah. 

We'll  dance  lieel  and  toe, 
Till  de  lamp  burns  low, 
An'  de  Turkey  carpet's  worn  away  from  off  de  parlor 
tioah.  Henry  Tyrrell. 


THE  IRISHMAN'S  PANORAMA. 


LADIES  AND  GINTLEMIN  :  In  the  foreground 
over  there  ye'll  obsarve  Vinegar  Hill,  an'  should 
ver  be  goiu'  by  that  way  some  day,  yer  moight  l)e 
fktigued,  an'  if  yer  are  yer'll  foind  at  the  fut  of  tlie 
bill  a  nate  little  cot  kept  by  a  man  named  McCarty, 
who.  by  the  way,  is  as  foine  a  lad  as  you'll  mate  in  a 
day's   march.     I   see   by  the   hasp   on   the   door  that 


140  THE  irishman's  PANORAMA, 

McCaitj  is  out,  or  I'd  take  yes  in  an'  introduce  yes 
A  foine,  giuerous,  noble  feller  is  this  McCarty.  Shure 
an'  if  lie  had  but  the  wan  peratie  he'd  give  yes  the  half 
of  that,  and  phat's  more,  he'd  thank  ye  for  takin'  it, 
(James,  move  the  crank!  Larry,  music  on  the  bag- 
pipes !) 

Ladies  and  Gintlemin :  We've  now  arrived  at  a 
beautiful  spot,  situated  about  twenty  miles  this  side  o' 
Limerick.  To  the  left  over  there  yer'll  see  a  hut,  by 
the  side  of  which  is  sated  a  lady  and  gintleman  :  w'ell, 
as  I  was  goin'  that  way  wan  day,  I  heard  the  following 
conversation  betwixt  him  an'  her.  Says  she  to  him; 
"  James,  it's  a  shame  for  yer  to  be  tratin'  me  so  ;  d'ye 
moind  the  time  yer  used  to  come  to  me  father's  castle 
a-beggin'  ?"  "  Yer  father's  castle — me  ?  Well,  thin  ! 
ye  could  shtand  on  the  outside  of  yer  father's  castle, 
an'  stick  yer  arm  down  the  chimney  an'  pick  praties 
out  of  the  pot,  an'  niver  a  partition  betwixt  you  and 
the  pigs  but  sthraw."     (Move  the  crank,  etc.) 

Ladies  and  Gintlemin  :  We  have  now  arrived  at  the 
beautiful  an'  classical  lakes  of  Killarney.  There's  a 
curious  legend  connected  wid  dese  lakes  that  I  must 
relate  to  you.  It  is,  that  every  evenin'  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  a  beautiful  swan  is  seen  to  make  its 
appearance,  an'  while  movin'  transcendentally  an' 
glidelessly  along,  ducks  its  head,  skips  under  the  water, 
an'  you'll  not  see  him  till  the  next  afternoon.  (Turn 
the  crank,  etc.) 

Ladies  and  Gintlemin :  We  have  now  arrived  at 
another  beautiful  spot,  situated  about  thirteen  and  a 
half  miles  this  side  of  Cork.  This  is  a  grate  place, 
noted  for  sportsmin.  Wanst,  while  sthoppin'  over  there 
at  the  hotel  de  Finney,  the  following  tilt  of  a  eonverB»» 


THB  NAUGHTY   GREEK   GIRL.  141 

tion  occurred  betwixt  Mr.  Muldooney,  the  waiter,  and 
mesilf.  I  says  to  him,  says  I,  "  Mully,  old  boy,  will  you 
have  the  kindness  to  fetch  me  the  mustard  ?"  and  he  was 
a  long  time  bringiu'  it,  so  I  opportuned  him  for  kapin' 
me.  An'  says  he  to  me,  says  he, "  Mr.  McCune  "  (that's 
me),  "  I  notice  that  you  take  a  grate  deal  of  mustard 
wid  your  mate."  "  I  do,"  says  I.  Says  he,  "  I  notice 
you  take  a  blame  sight  of  mate  wid  your  mustard." 
(Move  the  crank  1  Larry,  "  Finnigin's  Wake.") 

Ladies  and  Gintlemin  :  We  now  skhip  acrost  the 
broad  Atlantic  to  a  wonderful  sphot  in  America,  situa- 
ted a  few  miles  from  Chinchinnatti,  called  the  Falls  of 
Niagara.  Wliile  lingerin'  here  wan  day,  I  saw  a  young 
couple,  evidently  very  sweet  on  aich  other.  Av  coorse 
I  tuk  no  notice  of  phat  they  were  sayin',  but  I  couldn't 
help  listenin'  to  the  followin'  extraordinary  conversa- 
tion. Says  he  to  her:  "  Isn  t  it  wonderful  to  see  that 
tremindous  amount  of  water  comin'  down  over  that  ter- 
rible precipice."  "  Yis,  darlint,"  says  she, "  but  wouldn't 
it  be  far  more  wonderful  to  see  the  same  tremlndoug 
body  of  water  a-goin'  up  that  same  precipice  ?"  (Music 
en  the  pipes.)  Jas.  Burdette. 


THE  NAUGHTY  GREEK  GIRL. 


MISS  ALPHA,  though  she  led  her  claas. 
Was  yet  a  most  unlovely  lass  : 
She  had  a  little  sister  Theta, 
And  she  would  often  bang  and  Beta, 
And  push  and  pinch,  and  pound  and  pelt  htti^ 
And  many  a  heavy  blow  she  Delta  ; 
So  that  the  kitten,  e'en  would  Mu, 
When  Theta's  sufferings  she  Nu. 


142  THE   NAUGHTY   GREEK   GIBL, 

This  Alpha  was  so  bad  to  Theta, 
That  every  time  she  chanced  to  meet  her 
She  looked  as  though  she  longed  to  Eta ; 
And  oft'  against  the  "wall  she  jammed  her, 
And  oft'  she  took  a  stick  and  Lambda ; 
And  for  the  pain  and  tears  she  brought  hei 
She  pitied  her  not  one  Iota  ; 
But  with  a  sly  and  wicked  eye 
Would  only  say,  "  Oh,  fiddle,  Phil" 

Then  Theta  cried  with  noisy  clamor. 
And  ran  and  told  her  grief  to  Gamma, 
And  Gamma,  with  a  pitying  Psi, 
Would  give  the  little  girl  some  Pi, 
And  say,  "  Now  darling  mustn't  Khi  1*^ 

Two  Irish  lads  of  ruddy  cheek, 

Were  living  just  across  the  creek — 

Their  names,  Omicron  and  Omego  ; 

The  one  was  small,  the  other  bigger. 

For  Alpha,  so  demure  and  "striking," 

Omego  took  an  ardent  liking  ; 

And  Mike,  when  first  he  chanced  to  meet  hw 

Fell  deep  in  love  with  little  Theta ; 

And  oft  at  eve  the  boys  would  go 

And  on  the  pleasant  waters  Rho. 

So  when  the  little  hapless  Theta 

Nu  Alpha  was  about  to  Beta, 

She  down  upon  the  bank  would  Zeta 

And  ery  aloud  and  shout  like  fun — 

•*  Run,  Mike  1  run,  Micky  !  Omicron  T  ' 


LOVE   AT    THE  SEASIDE.  141 

LOVE  AT  THE  SEASIDR 


SU^IMER  at  the  seaside.  At  the  base  of  tlie  ciiffs  a 
beautiful  girl,  who  is  as  handsome  as  she  is  pretty, 
sits  sketching,  sits  catching  the  soft  sea-breeze  that  float*? 
from  the  sea.  Her  cheek  is  like  the  peach,  her  brow 
like  rich,  sweet  cream,  and  he  whose  form  is  stretched  at 
her  feet  casts  time  and  again,  and  frequently-,  a  longing 
look  upon  the  peaches  and  the  cream.  His  marble  brow 
is  as  white  as  snow  ;  his  raven  locks  are  black. 

"  Do  you  smell  the  smell  of  the  sea?"  he  murmurs, 
and  blushes  as  he  murmurs. 

Like  the  ripple  of  a  rill  over  rocks  her  laughter  bub- 
bles forth,  and  she  laughed. 

"  I  love  the  odoriferous  odors  of  old  ocean,"  she  rip- 
pled. 

"  Do  they  remind  you  of  me  ?"  he  softly  asked. 

"  Ah  I"  she  whispered,  "  when  you  are  away,  they 
always  tell  me  that,  you  are  absent." 

"  How  true,"  he  said,  while  his  eyes  dreamily  sought 
ihe  far  off,  "  we  are  never  here  when  we  are  there." 

And  so  thev  sat,  weaving  sweet  words  mto  sweeter 
sentences,  until  the  sun  sank  below  the  horizon's  rim 
and  the  auriferous  waves  shone  like  gold. 

"  Behold  the  reclining  orb  of  day,"  said  the  fair 
sketcher — she  was  sketching  for  a  fair — "  does  it  not  re- 
mind you  of  a  sunset  ?" 

"  More  than  aught  else,"  he  answered,  "  only  the  sun 
never  sets  here." 

"  O  I"  she  sighed,  spasmodically,  "  are  we  in  Great 
Britain  ?" 

**  No,"  he  replied,  slowly  arising  and  winding  his  arm 


144  LOVE   AT   THE   SEASIDE. 

about  her,  "  but  at  the  romantic  seaside  the  sun  nevei 
sets.    It  reclines." 

"  As  the  son  does  so  does  the  daughter,"  she  faltered^ 
and  her  head  gently  reclined  upon  the  lappel  of  hia 
marseilles  vest. 

"  The  little  wavelets  kiss  the  sands  that  sparkle  at  our 
feet,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  sawed  the  air  with  the  one 
arm  still  left  at  his  disposal,  and  his  mellow  voice  rang 
out  in  a  pulpit-oratorical  tone  ;  "  the  wavelets  kies  the 
sands,  and  the  parting  sunbeams  kiss  the  brow  of  the 
cliff  that  guards  the  shore,  and " 

"  Ah  !"  she  interrupted,  in  accents  so  tremulous  and 
low  that  they  were  scarcely  perceptible,  much  less 
audible,  "  happy  wavelets;  thrice  happy  sunbeams  I" 

Her  terra-cotta  hat  was  tipped  back,  temptingly  dis- 
closing her  fair  face  ;  her  closed  eyes  were  shut,  and 
from  her  half-open  mouth  a  suppressed  sigh  escaped  be- 
tween her  parted  lips. 

It  was  a  case  calling  for  prompt  and  immediate  action. 
aud  the  young  man,  to  the  credit  of  his  sex  be  it  re- 
corded, was  equal  to  the  emergency.  Some  men  would 
have  faltered,  others  would  have  hesitated,  and  still 
others  would  have  held  back,  but  this  young  man  was 
never  known  to  quail — except  on  toast.  With  a  firm- 
ness only  acquired  by  long  practice,  he  tightened  his 
grip  upon  the  form  that  lay  confidingly  upon  his  arm  ; 
he  gave  the  terra-cotta  hat  an  extra  tip,  and  then  wip- 
ing ofl^  his  lips  with  a  highly -scented  and  richly-per- 
fumed handkerchief,  he  planted  a  royal  kiss  right  where 
it  would  do  the  most  good. 

Slowly  she  opened  her  eyes,  like  one  recovering  from 
a  dream,  or  awakening  from  a  sleep,  and  smiling  fwbl^ 
laid: 


LOVE.   AT   THE   SEASIDE-  14ft 

**  I  feel  better  now.'' 

Silence  stole  upon  the  scene,  and  all  was  still.  Quiet 
reigned ;  no  sounds  were  heard.  She  listened  only  to 
the  thumping  of  his  heart,  and  was  satisfied.  But  not 
he,  for  hunger  Avas  gnawing  at  his  soul. 

"  Ah  !"  he  lowly  breathed,  "  I  have  my  longings." 

"Do  you  sigh  for,  O!  do  you  sigh  for  the  in 
jQnite?" 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  I  don't  cipher  that  way  thia 
time.  My  heart's  yearning  is  for  clams.  Alas !  I  can 
live  upon  romance  through  all  the  shimmering  after- 
noon ;  I  can  subsist  upon  sentiment  until  the  sentinel 
stars  set  their  watch  in  the  sky  and  the  sweet  tintinnab- 
ulations of  the  supper-bell  vibrate  upon  the  evening  air, 
then  hunger  asserts  itself,  and  when  I  get  hungry  I  want 
to  eat." 

"  How  strange !"  she  said ;  "  how  fearfully  and  won- 
derfully made  is  man !" 

Then  taking  her  lily-white  hand  in  his,  he  gazed  into 
her  eyes  as  though  he  would  pierce  her  very  soul  with 
his  glance. 

"  Fair  creature,"  he  gasped,  "  do  you  never  eat  ?" 

"  Perish  the  thought,"  she  replied,  Avith  a  shudder. 
"Sometimes  I  partake  of  refreshments,  but  I  never 
eat." 

Slowly,  with  tardy  steps,  and  somewhat  leisurely,  thev 
gtrolled  across  the  gleaming  sand  to  where  the  white- 
washed front  of  the  hostelry  strove  to  outstare  the  sea- 
There  the  delicate  girl  sought  the  refectory  and  called 
for  clams,  which  she  swept  with  a  charming  grace  be- 
tween  her  rosebud  lips,  and  then  she  called  for  clams. 
These  alpo  went  over  from  the  minority  and  joined  the 
iilent  majority,  after  which  she  musingly  wiped  has 
10 


146  THE  MAN    WHO   APOLOGIZED. 

pretty  mouth  upon  a  scarlet-fringed  napkin  and  called 
for  clams. 

A  young  man  gazed  upon  her  through  the  lattice  in 
speechless  admiration. 

"  She  is  partaking  of  refreshments,"  he  whispered  to 
himself. 

That  night  he  sat  upon  the  edge  of  his  bed,  fanning 
mosquitoes  away  with  one  hand,  and  casting  up  countless 
rows  of  figures  upon  the  backs  of  old  letters  with  the 
other. 

"  I  never  could  stand  the  racket,"  he  said  at  last. 

When  the  mists  crept  up  from  the  sea,  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  had  departed.  He  was  no  longer  there.  He  had 
gone. 


THE  MAN  WHO  APOLOGIZED. 


IT  was  at  the  corner  of  Woodward  Avenue  and  Con- 
gress Street,  and  the  time  was  ten  o'clock  in  the 
forenoon.  A  citizen  who  stands  solid  at  two  hundred 
pounds  was  walking  along  with  bright  eyes  and  the 
birds  singing  in  his  heart,  when  all  at  once  he  found 
himself  looking  up  to  the  cloudy  heavens,  and  a  voice 
up  the  street  seemed  to  say  : — 

"  Did  you  see  the  old  duffer  strike  that  icy  spot  and 
claw  for  grass?" 

Then  another  voice  down  the  street  seemed  to  say — 

"  You  bet  I  did  !  He's  lyin'  there  yit,  but  he'd  git 
right  up  if  he  knew  how  big  his  foot  looked  !" 

The  solid  citizen  did  get  up.  The  first  thing  he  saw 
the  beautiful  city  of  Detroit  spread  out  before  him. 
The   next  thing  was   a  slim   man  with    bone-colored 


THE  MAK   WHO   APOLOGIZEIX  147 

whiskers,  who  -ivfis  leaning  against  a  building  and 
laughing  as  if  his  heart  -would  break. 

"  I  can  knock  your  jaw  off  in  three  minutes !"  ex- 
claimed the  citizen,  as  he  fished  for  the  end  of  his 
broken  suspender. 

The  slim  man  didn't  deny  it.  He  hadn't  time.  H<» 
had  his  hands  full  to  attend  to  his  laughing.  The  solid 
man  finally  found  the  suspender,  counted  up  four  mis- 
sing buttons  and  his  vest  split  up  the  back,  and  slowly 
went  on,  looking  back  and  wondering  if  he  could  be 
held  for  damages  to  the  side-walk.  He  had  been  in  his 
office  about  ten  minutes,  and  had  just  finished  telling 
a  clerk  that  an  express  team  knocked  him  down, 
when  in  came  the  slim  man  with  bone-colored  whiskers. 
The  solid  man  recognized  him  and  put  on  a  frown,  but 
the  other  held  out  his  hand  and  said  : — 

"  Mister,  I  came  to  beg  your  pai-don.  You  fell  on  the 
walk  and  I  laughed  at  you,  but — ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — upon 
my  soul  I  couldn't  help  it.  It  was  the — ha  !  ha !  ha  I — 
funniest  sight  I  ever  sav.',  and — oh  !  ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  ha ! 
ha ! — I  couldn't  help  laughing  !" 

"  I  want  none  o'  your  penitence  and  none  o'  youi 
company !"  sharply  replied  the  solid  man,  and  the  other 
went  out. 

In  about  an  hour  the  "  fallen  man  "  had  to  go  over 
to  the  express  oflice.  The  man  with  the  bone-colored 
whiskers  was  there  with  a  package,  and  /le  reached  out 
his  hand  and  began  : — 

"Sir,  I  ask  your  forgiveness,  I  know  what  belongs  to 
dignity  and  good  manners,  but — but — ha !  ha  ! — when  I 
saw  your  heels  shoot  out  and  your  shoulders — ha  !  ha  ! 
ha ! — double   up,   I   had    to—ho  I   bo  I    ha !    ha  1    ha } 

•h-h'h-h  r 


14S  THE  MAN   WHO  APOI,or,iZEn, 

"  I'll  lick  you  if  ever  I  get  a  good  cliance  !"  remarked 
the  citizen,  but  yet  the  man  sat  down  on  a  box  and 
laughed  till  the  tears  came. 

In  the  afternoon  as  the  citizen  was  about  to  take  a 
car  forborne  some  one  touched  him  on  the  elbow.  It  was 
the  man  with  the  bone-colored  whiskers.  His  face  haA 
a  very  serious,  earnest  look,  and  he  began : 

"  Citizen,  I  am  positively  ashamed  of  myself  I  am 
going  to  settle  in  Detroit,  and  shall  see  you  often.  I 
want  ix)  ask  your  forgiveness  for  laughing  at  you  thi» 
morning." 

He  seemed  so  serious  that  the  solid  man  began  to 
relax  his  stern  look,  and  he  was  about  to  extend  bis 
hand  when  the  other  continued  : — 

"  You  see  we  are — are  ail — ha !  ha  !  liable  to  accident. 
I,  myself,  have  often — ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — struck  an  icy  spot 
and — ho !  ho  !  ho  !  ha  !  ha  I — gone  down  to  grass — ah 
ha  !  ho !  ha  !  ho  !  ha  !" 

The  solid  citizen  withdrew  his  hand,  braced  his  feet, 
drew  his  breath  and  struck  to  mash  the  other  fine.  His 
foot  slipped,  and  next  he  knew  he  was  plowing  his  nose 
into  the  hard  snow.  When  he  got  up  the  man  with  the 
bone-colored  whiskers  was  hanging  to  a  hitching-post, 
and  as  black  in  the  face  as  an  old  hat.  The  citizen 
should  have  killed  him  then  and  there,  but  be  didn't 
He  ma«le  for  a  car  like  a  bear  going  over  a  brush  fence, 
and  his  efforts  to  look  innocent  and  unconcerned  afte? 
he  sat  doAvn  broke  his  other  suspender  dead  in  two. 
Such  is  life.  No  man  can  tell  what  any  icy  spot  will 
bring  &rrih.~-^- Detroit  Free  Frets. 


•SHU   KOY    AND    TMK    l?^RO«.  14Kt 

THE  BOY  AND  THE  FROG. 


(QEE  the  frog,  the  slimy,  green  frcg, 
^     Dozing  away  on  tliat  old  rotteu  log 

Seriously  wondering 

What  caused  the  sundering 
Of  the  tail  th^it  he  wore  when  a  wee  pollyvrog. 

See  the  boy,  the  freckled  schoolboy, 
Filled  with  a  wicked  love  to  a4inoy, 

Watching  the  frog 

Perched  on  the  log 
With  feelings  akin  to  tumultuous  joy. 

See  the  rock,  the  hard,  flinty  rock, 

Which  the  freckle-fhced  boy  ut  the  frog  dotk  aock 

Conscious  he's  sinning, 

Yet  gleefully  grinning 
At  the  likely  result  of  its  terrible  shock. 

See  the  srass,  the  treacherous  grass. 
Slip  from  beneath  his  feet !     Alas  1 

Into  the  mud 

With  a  dull  thud 
He  falls,  and  rises  a  slimy  mass. 

Now,  see  the  frog,  the  hilarious  frog. 
Dancing  a  jig  on  his  old  rotten  log, 

Apy)lving  his  toes 

To  his  broad,  blunt  nose, 
Am  he  laughs  at  the  boy  stuck  fast  in  the  bo;^. 


150  SHE   REFERRED   HIM    TO    HER   FA. 

Look  at  the  switch,  the  hickory  switch, 
Waiting  to  make  that  schoolboy  twitch. 
When  his  mother  knows 
The  state  of  his  clothes 
Won't  he  raise  his  voice  to  its  highest  pitch  f 


SHE  REFERKED  HIM  TO  HER  PA. 


n 

Her   fairy   form. 

Her   modest     face. 

Her   charming   air, 

And  winning  grace 

Enchanted    all 

The  lads   in    town. 

And  each  one  loved 

J  e  m  i  rn  a   B  r  ow  n. 

She  oft  was   called 

The    village   pride, 

And    for    her  love 

I  long  had  sighed. 

I  said   I'd    know 
No  joy  in  life  till  she'd 
Consent  to  be  my  wife.  She 
Blushed   quite   red  and  said 
"  Oh,  la  ;"  and  then  referred  me  to 

Her  pa.  His  manner  was  both  rude 

And  rough,  and  when  he  spoke  his  tones 

Were  gruff.     I  asked  him  then  in  accents 

Bland  to  give       to  me  his  daughter's  hand. 

For  answer  he  gave  me  his  foot  encased 

Within    this  cowhide     boot  I 

— Somerville  JovmaL 


UNCLE   CEPHAS'   YARN.  151 


UNCLE  CEPHAS'  YARN. 

•'  mALKING  of  preachei-s,"  said  Caleb  Parker,  "  re» 
J-  minds  me  of  a  story  they  tell  of  Uncle  Cephaa 
Bascom,  of  North  Haven.  Uncle  Cephas  was  a  shoe- 
maker, and  he  never  went  to  sea  much,  only  to  anchor 
his  skiif  in  the  Narrows  abreast  of  his  house,  and  catch 
a  mess  of  scup,  or  to  pole  a  load  of  salt-hay  from  San- 
quitt  Island.  But  he  used  to  visit  his  married  daughter, 
in  Vermont,  and  up  there  they  knew  he  come  from  the 
seaboard,  and  they  used  to  call  him  *  Captain  Bascom.' 
So,  one  time  when  he  was  there,  they  hed  a  Sabbath- 
school  concert,  and  nothing  would  do  but  '  Captain 
Bascom  '  must  talk  to  the  boys,  and  tell  a  sea-yarn,  and 
draw  a  moral,  the  way  the  Deacon,  here,  does."  The 
Deacon  gravely  smiled,  and  stroked  his  beard.  "  Well, 
LIncle  Cephas  was  ruther  pleased  with  his  name  of 
'  Captain  Bascom,'  and  he  didn't  like  to  go  back  on  it, 
and  so  he  flaxed  round  to  git  up  something.  It  seems 
he  had  heard  a  summer  boarder  talk  in  Sabbath  school, 
at  Northhaven  ;  he  told  how  a  poor  boy  minded  his 
mother,  and  then  got  to  tend  store,  and  then  kep'  store 
himself,  and  then  he  jumped  it  on  them  :  '  That  poor 
boy,'  says  he,  '  now  stands  before  you.'  So  Uncle 
Cephas  thought  him  up  a  similar  yarn.  Well,  he  had 
never  spoke  in  meeting  before,  and  he  hemmed  and 
hawed  some,  out  he  got  on  quite  well  ivhile  he  was  tel- 
ling about  a  certain  poor  boy,  and  all  that,  and  how  the 
boy  when  he  grew  up  was  out  at  sea,  in  an  open  boat, 
and  saw  a  2reat  sword-fish  making  for  the  boat,  Hail 
Columbia,  and  bound  to  stave  right  through  her  and 
sink  her,  and  how  this  man  he  took  an  oar,  and  give  it 


152  BENEATH  HER  WINDOW. 

a  swing,  and  broke  the  critter's  sword  s({uare  oft*;  and 
then  Uncle  Cephas, — he'd  begun  to  git  a  little  flustered, 
he  stopped  short,  and  waved  his  arms,  and  says  he, 
*  Boys,  wliat  do  you  think  ?  That  sword-fish  now  stands 
before  you.' 

"  I  cai'late  that  brought  the  house  down." 

—  Century  Magazifie. 


BENEATH  HER  AVINDOW. 


HE  thought  to  serenade  his  love, 
And,  pausnig  'neath  her  casement, 
He  warbled  forth  his  sweetest  lays 
In  humble  self-abasement, — 

Of  moonlight,  constancy,  and  love, 
And  all  things  true  and  tender. 

And  called  on  sleep  and  happy  dreams 
That  instant  to  attend  her. 

A  thrill  of  hope  pervades  his  breast, — 
The  lattice  trembles  slightly  ! 

But  what  is  this  that  meets  his  gaze — 
This  form  uncouth,  unsightly  ? 

A  voice  of  dread  falls  on  his  ear, 
A  voice  so  cracked  and  toothless. 

It  shatters  all  his  hopes  of  bliss 
With  touch  severe  and  ruthiess. 

**  A  very  pretty  tune,  young  man  ; 

I'm  much  obleeged  ye  come  ! 
Now,  while  you're  at  it,  please  to  sing 

*  The  Old  Folks  at  Home !'  " 


THE  PHOTOGRAPHa.  154 

THE  PHOTOGRAPHS. 


TO-DAY  I  was  let  sit  up,  tucked  up  in  a  quilt  in  a 
arm-chare.  I  soon  got  tired  o'  that,  so  I  ast  Betty 
to  get  me  a  glass  o'  ice-water  to  squench  my  thirst,  an' 
when  slie  was  gone  I  cut  an'  run,  an'  went  into  Susan's 
room  to  look  at  all  them  fotografs  of  nice  young  men 
she's  got  there  in  a  drawer. 

The  girls  was  all  down  in  the  parlor,  'cos  Miss  Wat- 
son had  come  to  call.  Betty  she  came  a  huntin'  me, 
but  I  hid  in  the  closet  behind  a  ole  hoop-skirt.  I  come 
out  when  she  went  away,  and  had  a  real  good  time. 
Some  o'  them  fotografs  was  written  on  the  back,  like 
this  .  "  Conseated  fop  !"  "  Oh,  ain't  he  sweet  ?"  "  He 
ast  me,  but  I  wouldn't  have  him."  "  A  perfeck  darl- 
ing !"     "  What  a  mouth  !"     "  Portrait  of  a  donkey  !" 

I  kep  about  two  dozen  o'  them  I  knew,  to  have  some 
fun  when  I  got  well.  I  shut  the  drawer  so  Sue  wouldn't 
notice  they  was  took.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  not  bare  to 
go  back  to  that  na.sty  room,  I  was  so  tired  of  it,  an'  I 
thought  I'd  pass  my  time  a  playing  I  was  a  young  lady. 
I  found  a  lot  o'  little  curls  in  the  buro,  wich  I  stuck  on 
all  around  my  forehead  with  a  bottle  of  mewsiledge, 
and  then  I  seen  some  red  stuff  on  a  sawcer,  wich  I 
nibbed  onto  my  cheaks.  When  I  was  all  fixed  up  I  slid 
down  the  bannisters  plump  against  Miss  Watson,  wot 
was  aayin'  good-bye  to  my  sisters.  Such  a  hollerin'  as 
they  made! 

Miss  Watson  she  turned  me  to  the  light,  am'  see  she, 
afi  sweet  ;us  pie  : 

"Where  did  you  get  them  pretty  red  cheeks, 
Geordie  ?" 


154  THE   PHOTOGRAPHS. 

Susan  she  made  a  sign,  but  I  didn't  know  it. 

"  I  found  some  red  stutl  in  Hue's  drawer,"  sez  I,  an(j 
she  smiled  kind  o'  hateful,  and  said  . 

"Oh  I" 

My  sister  says  she  is  an  awful  gossip,  wich  will  tell 
all  over  town  that  they  paint,  wich  they  don't,  'cause 
that  sawcer  was  gust  to  make  roses  on  card-bord,  wich 
is  all  right. 

Sue  was  so  mad  she  boxed  my  eai-s. 

"  Aha,  missy  !"  sez  I  to  myself,  "  you  don't  guess 
about  them  fotografs  wot  I  took  out  o'  your  drawer  I" 

Some  folks  tliink  little  boys'  ears  are  made  on  pur- 
pose to  be  boxed — my  sisters  do.  If  they  knew  what 
dark  and  desperate  thoughts  come  into  little  boys* 
minds,  they'd  be  more  careful — it  riles  'em  up  like 
pokin  sticks  into  a  mud  puddel. 

I  laid  low — but  beware  to-morrow  ! 

They  let  me  come  down  to  breakfast  this  mornm*. 

I've  got  those  pictures  all  in  my  pockets,  you  bet 
yMur  life. 

"  Wot  makes  your  pockets  stick  out  so  ?"  ast  Lily, 
f^hen  I  was  a  waiting  a  chance  to  slip  out  unbeknone. 

**  Oh,  things,"  sez  I,  an'  she  laughed. 

"  I  thought  mebbe  you'd  got  your  books  and  cloathes 
packed  up  in  'em,"  sez  she, "  to  run  away  an'  t)e  a  Injun 
warryor." 

I  didn't  let  on  anything,  but  ansered  her : 

"I  guess  I'll  go  out  in  the  backyard  an'  play  a 
«pell." 

Well,  I  got  off  down  town,  an'  had  a  lot  of  fun.  I 
called  on  all  the  aboriginals  of  them  fotografs. 

"  Hello,  Georgie  !  Well  agen  ?"  said  the  first  felia 
I  stopped  to  see. 


THE  PHOTOGRAPHS.  155 

Oh,  my  '  when  I  get  big  eiiufl'  I'll  hope  my  mustachea 
won't  be  waxed  like  his'n  I  He's  in  a  store,  an'  1  got 
him  to  give  me  a  nice  cravat,  an'  he  ust  me  "  Was  my 
listers  well  ?"  so  I  fished  out  his  tbtograf,  and  gave  it  to 
him« 

It  was  the  one  that  had  "  Couseated  Foj3 '"  writ  on 
Ihe  back  The  girls  had  drawed  his  musttaches  out  tv.ict 
as  long  with  a  pencil,  an'  made  him  smile  all  acrost  his 
face.     He  got  as  red  as  fire,  an'  then  he  skowled  at  me, 

"  Who  did  that,  you  little  rascal !" 

"  I  guess  the  spirits  did  it,"  I  said,  as  onest  as  a  owl, 
an'  I  went  away  quick  cause  he  looked  mad. 

The  nex  plaice  I  come  to  was  a  grocery  store,  where  a 
nuther  young  man  lived.  He  had  red  hair  an'  freckles, 
but  he  seemed  to  think  hisself  a  beauty.     J  said: 

"  Hello,  Peters !" 

He  said  t 

"The  same  youi-self.  Master  George.  Do  you  like 
raisins?    Help  yourself." 

Boys  wot  has  three  pretty  sisters  allers  docs  get 
treted  well,  I  notiss.  I  took  a  big  hanful  of  raisins  an' 
a  few  peanuts,  an'  sot  on  the  counter  eating  'em,  till  all 
at  oncest,  as  if  I  jest  thought  of  it,  I  took  out  his  foto- 
graf  an'  scpiluted  at  it,  an  sez  ; 

"  I  do  declare  it  looks  like  you." 

**  Let  me  see  rt,"  sez  he, 

I  wouldn't  for  a  long  time,  then  I  gave  it  to  him. 
The  girls  had  made  freckles  all  over  it.  This  was  the 
one  they  wrote  on  its  back,  "  He  asked  me,  but  I 
wouldn't  have  him."  They'd  painted  his  hair  as  red  as  a 
rooster's  comb.    He  got  quite  pale  when  he  seen  it  clost. 

"  It's  a  burning  shame,"  sez  I, "  for  them  young  ladies 
to  make  fun  of  their  bows^" 


ih6  THE   PHOTOGRAPHS. 

"  Clear  out,"  sez  Peters. 

I  grabliecl  a  nutlier  bunch  o'  raisins  an'  quietly  di« 
appeared.     I  tell  you  lie  was  rathy  ! 

Mister  Courtenay  he  was  a  lawyer,  he's  got  a  offia  on 
the  square  by  the  cort-house.  I  knew  him  very  well, 
'cause  he  comes  to  our  house  offen.  He's  a  awful 
queer-lookin'  chap,  an'  so  stuck  up  you'd  think  he  ^vas 
tryin'  to  see  if  the  moon  was  made  o'  green  cheese,  like 
folks  sez  it  is,  the  way  he  keeps  it  in  the  air.  He's  got 
a  depe,  depe  voice  way  down  in  his  boots.  My  harte 
beat  wen  1  got  in  there,  I  was  that  fritened  ;  but  I  was 
bound  to  see  the  fun  out,  so  I  ast  him : 

"  Is  the  What  is  It  on  exabishun  to-day  ?" 

"  Wot  do  you  mean  ?"  sez  he,  a  lookin'  down  on  me. 

"  Sue  said  if  I  would  come  to  Mister  Courtenay 's 
offis  I  would  see  wot  this  is  the  picture  of,"  sez  I,  givin' 
him  his  own  fotograf  inskibed,  "  The  Wonderful  What 
is  It." 

It's  awful  funny  to  see  their  faces  wen  they  look  at 
their  own  cards. 

In  about  a  minit  he  up  with  his  foot  wich  I  dodged 
Just  in  time.  I  herd  him  muttering  suthin'  'bout 
"  suing-  for  scandal."  I  think  myself  I  oughter  arrest 
her  for  'salt  an'  battery,  boxing  my  ears.  I  wisht  he 
would  sue  Sue,  'twould  serve  her  right. 

I'll  not  get  to  bed  fore  midnight  if  I  write  enny 
more.  I'm  yawning  now  like  a  dying  fish.  So,  farewell 
my  diry  till  the  next  time.  I  give  them  cards  all  back 
*^re  dinner-time.  There'll  be  a  row  I  expect.  I've 
idughed  myself  almost  to  fits  a  thinkin'  of  the  feller 
wot  I  give  "  The  Portrait  of  a  Donkey  "  to.  He  looked 
BO  cress  fallen.  I  do  believe  he  cried.  They  were 
teazin'  ma  to  let  'em  give  a  party  nex  week  wen  I  go* 


home  to  dinner.  I  don't  believe  one  of  them  young 
gentlemen  will  come  to  it ;  tlie  girls  have  give  'em  all 
away.  I  don't  care  wuth  a  cent.  Wot  for  do  they  take 
such  libertys  with  my  ears  if  they  want  me  to  be  good 
to  Vm. 

P.  S, — I  bet  their  left  ears  are  burning  wuss'n  evei 
mine  did ! 


A  ^YOMAN'S  "  NO." 


SHE  had  a  parcel,  small  and  round, 
One  lovely  afternoon  last  summer. 
I  offered,  as  in  duty  bound, 
To  take  it  from  her. 

She  thanked  me,  with  a  gracious  smile, 
As  sweet  as  rosy  lips  could  make  it ; 

It  was  so  small,  'twas  not  worth  while 
To  let  me  take  it. 

Again  T  offered,  as  before, 

Of  that  slight  burden  to  relieve  her. 
She'd  rather  not — "  Pray,  say  no  more  !" 
'Twnuld  really  grieve  her. 

I  ceased  to  plead — she  seemed  content, 
The  thing  was  small  and  neatly  corded. 

And  so  along  our  way  wc  went, 
To  where  she  boarded. 

But  when  upon  the  stoop  she  stood, 
And  ere  our  last  adieus  were  uttered, 

She  eyed  me  in  a  roguish  mood, 
And  softly  muttered, 


IfiS  THE   LIGHTNING-ROD    DISPENSER, 

As  STning  the  door  to  let  her  through, 
And  left  me  there  all  unresisting : 

"  I  don't  think  very  much  of  you 
For  not  insisting." 

Arthur  Graha*. 


THE  LIGHTNING-ROD  DISPENSER. 

A    FARM    BALLAD. 


JF  the  weary  world  is  willing,  I've  a  little  word  to 
say, 
Of  a  lightning-rod  dispenser  that  dropped  down  on  me 

one  day. 
With  a  poem  in  his  motions,  with  a  sermon  in  his  mien, 
With  hands  as  white  as  lilies,  and  a  face  uncommon 

clean. 
No  wrinkle  had  his  vestments,  and  his  linen  glistened 

white. 
And  his  new- constructed    necktie   was   an   interesting 

sight ; 
Which  I  almost   wish  his   razor    had  made    red  that 

white-skinned  throat. 
And  the  new-constructed  necktie  had  composed  a  hang- 
man's knot, 
Ere  he   brought   his    sleek-trimmed    carcass    for    my 

women-folks  to  see, 
And  his  rip-saw  tongue  a  buzzin'  for  to  gouge  a  gash  in 

me. 

But  I  couldn't  help  but  like  him — as  I  always  think  I 

must, 
The  gold  of  my  own  doctrines  in  a  fellow-heap  of  dust ; 


THE   LIGHTNING-SOD    DI8FENSER.  15S 

When  I  fired  my  own  opinions  at  this  person  round  hj 

round, 
They   drew   an   answering   volley,   of  a    very    similar 

sound  ; 
I  touched  him  on  religion,  and  the  hopes  my  heart  had 

known  ; 
He  said  he'd  had  experiences  quite  similar  of  his  own. 
I  told  him  of  the  doubtin's  that  made  dark  my  early 

years  ; 
He  had  laid  awake  till  morning,  with  tliat  same  oUl 

breed  of  fears. 
I  told  him  of  the  rough  path  I  hoped  to  heaven   to 

go; 

He  was  on  that  very  ladder,  only  just  a  round  below. 
I  told  him  of  my  visions  of  the  sinfulness  of  gain  ; 
He  had  seen  the  self-same  pictures,  though  not  quite  so 

clear  and  plain. 
Our  politics  was  different,  and  at  first  he  galled  and 

winced  ; 
But  I  arg'ed  him  so  able,  he  was  very  soon  convinced. 

And  'twas  getting  toward  the  middle  of  a  hungry  suju- 

mer  day ; 
There  was  dinner  on  the  table,  and  I  asked  him  would 

he  stay  ? 
And  he  sat  him  down  among  us,  everlasting  trim  and 

neat. 
And  asked  a  short,  crisp  blessing,  almost  good  enough. 

to  eat ; 
Then  he   fired  up  on  the  mercies  of  our  Great  Etemai 

Friend, 
JLnd  gave  the  Lord  Almighty  a  good,  finst-clafia  reconv 

mend; 


?.60  THE   LIGHTNING-ROD    DISPENSER. 

^nd  for  full  an  hour  we  listened  to  the  sugar-coated 

scamp, 
Talking   like   a  blessed  angel — eating  like  a — blasted 

tramp. 

My  wife,  she  liked  the  stranger  ;  smiling  on  him  warm 

and  sweet 
(It  always  flatters  women,  when  their  guests  are  on  the 

eat). 
And  he  hinted  that  some  ladies  never  lose  their  early 

charms, 
And  he  kissed  her  latest  baby,  and  received  it  in  his 

arms. 
My  sons  and  daughters  liked  him,  for  he  had  progress- 
ive views, 
And   chewed  the  quid  of  fancy,  and  gave   down   the 

latest  news ; 
And  I  couldn't  help  but  like  him,  as  I  fear  I  always 

must, 
The  gold  of  my  own  doctrines  in  a  fellow-heap  of  dust. 

He  was  spreading  desolation  through  a  piece  of  apple-pie, 
When  he  paused,  and  looked  upon  us  with  a  tear  in  his 

off-eye, 
And  said,  "  O,  happy  family  ! — your  blessings  make  me 

sad  ; 
You  call  to  mind  the  dear  ones  that  in  happier  days  I 

had ; 
A  wife  as  sweet  as  this  one  ;  a  babe  as  bright  and  fair ; 
A  little  girl  with  ringlets,  like  that  one  over  there. 
I  worshiped  them  too  blindly ! — my  eyes  with  love  were 

dim! 
God  took  them  to  His  own  heart,  and  now  I  worshtf 

Hiiru 


THE   LIGHTNING-ROD   DISPENSER.  161 

But  had  I  not  neglected  the  means  within  my  waj. 
Then  they  might  still  be  living  and  loving  me  to-day. 

" One  night  there  came  a  tempest;  the  thunder-peals 

were  dire ; 
The  clouds  that  tramped  above  us  were  shooting  bolts 

of  fire  ; 
In  my  own  house,  I,  lying,  was  thinking,  to  my  blame. 
How  little  I  had  guarded  against  those  sliafts  of  flame, 
When   crash ! — through    roof    and   ceiling   the  deadly 

lightning  cleft, 
A.nd  killed  my  wife  and  children,  and  only  I  was  left. 

"  Since  that  dread  time  I've  wandered,  and  nought  for 
life  have  cared, 

Save  to  save  others'  loved  ones,  whose  lives  have  yet 
been  spared ; 

Since  then,  it  is  my  mission,  where'er  by  sorroAV  tossed, 

To  sell  to  virtuous  people  good  lightning-rods — at 
cost. 

With  sure  and  strong  protection,  I'll  clothe  your  build- 
ings o'er, 

'Twill  cost  you  fifty  dollars  (perhaps  a  trifle  more)  ; 

What  little  else  it  comes  to,  at  lowest  price  I'll  put, 

(You  signing  this  agreement  to  pay  so  much  per  foot.") 

I  signed  it,  while  my  family  all  approving  stood  about: 
And  dropped   a  tear  upon   it — (but  it  didn't  blot   ii 

out !) 
That  very  day  with  wagons  came  some  men,  both  great 

and  small ; 
Thej  climbed  upon  my  buildings,  just  as  if  they  owned 

'em  all ; 
11 


162  THE    LIGHTNING-ROD    DISPENSEIL 

They  hacked  'em  and  thej  hewed  'em,  much  against  my 

loud  desires  ; 
They  trimmed  'em  up  with  gewgaws,  and  they  bound 

'em  down  Avith  wires  ; 
They  trimmed    'em    and    they  wired   'era,    and    they 

trimmed  and  wired  'em  still, 
A.nd  every  precious  minute  kept  a  running  np  the  bill, 

Nly  soft-spoke  guest  a-seeking,  did  I  rave  and  rush  and 
run ; 

He  was  supping  with  a  neighbor,  just  a  three-mile 
further  on. 

•'  Do  you  think,"  I  fiercely  shouted,  "  that  I  want  a  mile 
o'  wire 

To  save  each  separate  hay-cock  out  o'  heaven's  consum- 
in'  fire? 

Do  you  think  to  keep  my  buildin's  safe  fz-ora  some  un- 
certain harm 

I'm  goin'  to  deed  you  over  all  the  balance  of  my  farm  ?' 

He  looked  up  quite  astonished,  ^\'ith  a  face  devoid  oi 

guile, 
And  he  pointed  to  the  contract,  with  a  reassuring  smile » 
It  was  the  first  occasion  that  he  disagreed  with  me ; 
But  he  held  me  to  that  paper,  with  a  firmness  sad  to 

see  : 
And  for  that  thunder  story,  ere  the  rascal  finally  went, 
I  paid  two  hundred  dollars,  if  I  paid  a  single  cent. 
And  if  any  lightnin'-rodder  wants  a  dinner-dialogue 
with  the  restaurant  department  of  an  enterprising  dog 
Let  him  set  his  mill  a-runnin'  just  inside  ray  outsida 

gate. 
And   I'll  bet  two  hundred  dollars  that  he  won't  have 

long  to  wait.  Will  Carleton, 


MISS   SniMONs'    XEW    BONXET.  163 


MISS  SIMMONS'  NEW  BONNET. 


MISS  SIMMONS  had  on  her  new  bonnet  to-day, 
A  model  of  floAvers  and  lace  ; 
An  imported  afftiir,  and  she  More  it  in  style. 
With  the  rim  coming  over  her  face. 

Of  coui"se,  she  took  care  to  come  tripping  in  late. 
And  all  the  first  hymn  was  sung  through, 

When  whe  came  up  the  aisle  with  the  air  of  a  queen. 
And  stopped  at  the  door  of  her  pew. 

A  stranger  was  in  it,  a  man  too,  at  that — 

The  new  boarder  just  over  the  way ; 
He  quietly  rose,  and  she  slid  in  her  place 

As  the  parson  was  saying  "  let's  pray." 

Hie  prayer  was  a  long  one,  at  least  so  it  seemed, 
And  he'd  never  get  through  it  I  thought, 

I  was  awfully  tempted  to  take  a  sly  peep, 
But  I  knew  I'd  be  sure  to  get  caught. 

Deacon  Jones  and  his  wife  sat  next  on  my  right, 
With  Johnnie  and  Robbie,  their  boys, 

And  the  madam  kept  watch  o'er  the  frolicsome  imps 
In  fear  lest  they  might  make  a  noise. 

The  "  amen  "  came  at  last,  and  try  as  I  might 

The  temptation  I  couldn't  resist : 
My  eyc.='  went  right  straight  to  the  styli.sh  new  hat. 

Oh,  what  if  the  text  I  had  missed  I 


164        .  A   GIRL   OF   THE   PERIOD. 

But  I  wasn't  the  only  one  there  this  fine  day 

Whose  thoughts  unto  vanity  strayed, 
For  Miss  Moore  gazed  right  at  her  when  meeting  wiw 
done — 

You  know,  she's  a  niilFner  by  trade. 

The  style  slie  fixed  firmly,  securely  in  mind. 

And  to-morrow  she'll  surely  design 
A.  bonnet  just  like  it,  and  next  Sunday  morn 

Miss  Simmons  she'll  try  to  outshine. 

Laurie  A.  Raymond, 


A  GIRL  OF  THE  PERIOD. 


OH,  she  was  so  utterly  utter ! 
She  couldn't  eat  plain  bread  and  butter, 

But  a  nibble  she'd  take 

At  a  wafer  of  cake, 
Or  the  wing  of  a  quail  for  her  supper ; 
Roast  beef  and  plum-pudding  she'd  sneer  at, 
A  boiled  leg  of  mutton  she'd  jeer  at. 

But  the  limb  of  a  frog 

Might  her  appetite  jog. 
Or  some  delicate  bit  that  came  near  that. 
The  consequence  was,  she  grew  paler 
And  more  wishy-washy,  and  frailer. 

Ate  less  for  her  dinner. 

Grew  thinner  and  thinner. 

Till  I  really  think. 

If  you  marked  her  with  Ink, 

Put  an  envelope  on  her, 

And  stamped  it  upon  her. 


A   QIRL   OF   THE   PERIOD.  IQ& 

You  could  go  to  the  office  and  mail  her ! 

Her  voice  was  so  low  and  so  thrilling, 

Its  cadence  was  perfectly  killing ; 
And  she  talked  with  a  lisp  and  a  stutter. 
For  she  was  so  utterly  utter ! 


Oh,  she  was  so  very  sestlietic ! 

Her  face  was  quite  long  and  pathetic ; 

The  ends  of  her  hair 

Floated  loose  on  the  air, 
And  her  eyes  had  a  sadness  prophetic ; 
The  bangs  she  w^ore  down  on  her  forehead 
Were  straight  and  deliciously  horrid  ; 

And  a  sad-colored  gown 

Going  straight  up  and  down 
She  ^ore  when  the  weather  was  toi'rid. 
It  was  terrible  hard  to  enthuse  her. 
But  a  bit  of  old  china  would  fuse  her ; 
And  she'd  glow  like  a  coal  or  a  candle, 
At  the  mention  of  Bach  or  of  Handel 
At  pinks,  and  sweet-williams  and  roses, 
She'd  make  the  most  retrousse  noses, 

But  would  swoon  with  delight 

At  a  sunflower  bright, 
And  use  it  in  making  her  poses. 
She  moved  with  the  sleepiest  motion, 
As  if  not  quite  used  to  the  notion  ; 

And  her  manner  was  chill 

As  a  waterfowl's  bill 
When  he's  fresh  from  a  dip  in  the  ocean 
It  was  quite  the  reverse  ni  nuignetic. 
But  oh,  it  wua  very  aasthetic  ! 


166  THE    HONKBT    X»KACO». 

And  if,  with  your  old  fashioned  notions, 
You  could  wish  that  more  cheerful  emotion 

More  sunshine  and  grace, 

Should  appear  in  her  face, 
More  gladness  should  speak  in  her  motionsH- 
If  you  heard  with  a  homesick  dejection 
The  changes  in  voice  and  inflection, 

And  sighed  for  smooth  tresses, 

And  the  plain,  simple  dresses 
That  used  to  command  your  affection, — 
Oh,  hide  your  rash  thoughts  in  your  bosom  \ 
Or,  if  you  must  speak  out  and  use  'em. 
Then  under  your  breath  you  must  mutter ; 
For  she  is  too  utterly  utter  I 


THE  HONEST  DEACON. 

AN  honest  man  was  Deacon  Ray ; 
And,  though  a  Christian  good, 
He  had  one  fault,— the  love  of  drink 
For  drink  he  often  would. 

On  almost  every  Sunday,  too, 

He  would  at  dinner-time 
Indulge  to  quite  a  great  extent 

In  good  Madeira  wine. 

At  church,  in  front,  upon  the  side, 

The  deacon  had  his  pew ; 
Another  worthy,  Squire  Lee, 

He  had  a  seat  there  too» 


THE   HONEST   DEACON.  J67 

One  Sunday,  the  sermou  done. 

The  parson  said  he'd  talk 
tn  language  plain,  that  afternoon. 

Of  sins  within  their  flock. 

He  warned  them  that  they  must  not  flinchi 

If  he  should  be  severe. 
Each  thuuglit  his  neighbor'd  get  dressed  down, 

So  all  turned  out  to  hear. 

The  church  at  early  hour  was  full : 

The  deacon,  some  behind. 
Came  in  quite  late  ;  for  he  had  been 

Indulging  in  his  wine. 

And  up  the  long  and  broad  aisle 

He  stiffly  tottered  on ; 
And,  by  the  time  he'd  reached  his  seat. 

The  sermon  had  begun. 

The  parson,  of  transgressors  spoke. 

And  of  the  wrath  to  flee ; 
And  soon  he  to  the  query  came, — • 

"  The  drunkard — where  is  he  ?" 

A  pause  ;  and  then  the  deacon  rose, 

And  answered  like  a  man. 
Though  with  a  hiccup  in  his  voice. — 

"  Here,  parson — hie — 'ere  I  am.'' 

Of  course,  the  consternation 

Was  great  on  every  side  ; 
For  who'd  have  thought  the  deacon 

Would  thus  aptly  have  replied  ? 


MISS   MINERVA'S   DISAPPOINTMENT. 

The  preacher,  not  the  least  disturbP/d, 

With  his  remarks  kept  on, 
And  warned  him  to  forsake  his  ways : 

The  deacon  then  sat  down. 

'Twas  soon  another  question  came, 
With  no  more  welcome  sound, — 

"Where  is  the  wicked  hypocrite?" 
This  made  them  all  turn  round. 

Some  looked  at  this  one,  some  at  that^ 

As  if  they  would  inquire 
Who  'twas  the  parson  meant : 

His  eyes  were  on  the  squire. 

The  deacon,  noting  how  things  stood. 
Turned  round  and  spoke  to  Lee,— 

"  Come,  squire — hie — come,  you  get  up 
I  did  when  he  called  on  me." 


MISS  MINERVA'S  DISAPPOINTMENT. 

YES,  Debby,  'twas  a  disappointment ;  and  though,  ol 
coui-se,  I  try 
To  look  as  if  I  didn't  mind  it,  I  won't  tell  you  a  lie. 
Ye  see,  he'd  been  a-corain'  stiddy,  and  our  folks  sez,  sez 

they, 
*  It's  you,  Minervy,  that  he's  arter ;  he's  sure  to  pop 
some  day." 

He'd  walk  in  with  the  evenin'  shadders,  set  in  that 
easy  chair, 

And  praise  my  doughnuts,  kinder  sighin'  about  a  bache- 
lor's fare. 


MISS  Minerva's  disappointment.  169 

And  then  his  talk  was  so  improvin,'  he  made  the  doc- 
trines plain, 

^d  when  he'd  pint  a  moral,  allers  looked  at  Mary- 
Jane. 

She'd  laugh,  and  give  sech  silly  answers  that  no  one 
could  approve ; 

But,  law  !  the  men  can't  fool  me,  Debby — it  isn't  sense 
they  love, 

It's  rosy  cheeks,  and  eyes  a-sparklin'.     Yes,  yes,  you 

may  depend 
That  when  a  woman's  smart  and  handy — knows  how  to 

bake  and  mend. 
And  keep  her  house  and  husband  tidy,  why  the  fools 

will  pass  her  by, 
Bekase  she's  spent  her  youth  a-learnin'  their  wants  to 

satisfy. 

Now,  Mr.  Reed  was  allers  talkin'  of  what  a  wife  should 

be, 
60,  Debby,  was  it  any  wonder  I  thought  his  hints  meant 

me '? 
A.nd  then  when  Mary  Jane  would  giggle,  and  he  would 

turn  so  red, 
Could  you  have  guessed  that  they  was  courtiu'  when 

not  a  word  was  said  ? 

It  all  came  out  at  hii;t  so  sudden.     'Twas  Wednesday  of 

last  week. 
When   Mr.  Reed  came  in   quite  flustered.     Thinks  I, 

"  He  means  to  speak," 
ni  own  my  heart  beat  quicker,  Debby,  for  though  of 

course,  it's  b(jld 
To  like  a  man  before  he  offers,  I  thought  him  good  aa  gold. 


170  MISS  Minerva's  DiSAPPoiNTMEN'r. 

Well,  there  we  sot.     I  talked  and  waited  ;  he  hemtuefl 

and  coughed  awhile. 
He  seemed  so  most  uncommon  bashful  I  couldn't  help 

but  smile. 
I  thought  about  my  pIne-tar  cordial  that  drives  a  cough 

away. 
And   how  when  we  was  fairly  married  I'd  dose  him 

every  day. 

Just  then  he  spoke !     *'  Dear  Miss  Minervy,  you  must 

have  seen  quite  plain, 
That   I'm  in   love — "  "  I  hev,"  I  answers.      Sez  he, 

"  with  Mary  Jane." 
What  did  I  do  ?    I  nearly  fainted,  'twas  such  a  crue) 

shock. 
Yet  there  I  had  to  set  as  quiet  as  ef  I  was  a  rock. 

And  hear  about  her  "  girlish  sweetness  "  and  "  buddiu' 

beauty  "  too. 
Don't  talk  to  me  of  martyrs,  Debby,  I  know  what  I've 

gone  through. 
Well,  that's  the  end.     The  weddin's  settled  for  June^ 

he's  in  such  haste. 
I've  given  her  the  spreads  I've  quilted ;  so  they  won't 

go  to  waste. 

I'd  planned  new  curtains  for  his  study,  all  trimmed  with 

bands  of  blue. 
I'm  sure  her  cookin'  never'll   suit  him — he's  fond  of 

eatin'  too. 
Well,  no,  I  wa'n't  at  meetin'  Sundav,  I  don't  find  Mr 

Reed 
<Jo  quite  as  edityin'  lately,  he  can't  move  me.  indeed. 


PHARISEE  AND   8ADDUCEE.  17* 

And,  Debby,  when  you  see  how  foolish  a  man  in  love 

can  act, 
You  can't  have  such  a  high  opinion  of  him,  and  that'« 

a  faet. 
"  1  don't  look  well  ?"  Spring  weather,  mebbe ;  it's  git« 

tin*  warm,  you  know. 
Good-bye;  I'm  goin'  to  Uncle  Jotbam's,  to  stay  a  we^ 

or  So. 

Miss  E.  T.  Corbeit. 


PHARISEE  AXD  SADDUCEE. 


rnOGETHER  to  the  church  they  went, 
J-      Both  doubtless  on  devotion  bent. 
The  ])ar3on  preached  with  fluent  ease 
On  Pharisees  and  Sadducees. 
And  as  they  homeward  slowly  walked. 
The  lovers  on  the  sermon  talked. 
And  he — he  dearly  loved  the  maid — 
In  sot\  and  tender  accents  said, 
Darling,  do  you  think  that  we 
Are  Pharisee  and  Sadducee  ? 
She  flashed  on  him  her  bright  bro^vtl  eyes 
With  one  swift  look  of  vexed  surprise, 
And  as  he  hastened  to  aver 
He  v.as  lier  constant  worshiper, 
But  darling,  I  insist,  said  he. 
That  you  are  very  Phar-i-see, 
I  don't  think  you  care  much  for  mo. 
That  makes  me  so  Sad-u-cee. 


172  HOW   JIMMY   TENDED   THE   oABY. 

HOW  JIMMY  TP:NDED  THE  BABY. 

I  NEVER  could  see  the  use  of  babies.  We  have  on« 
at  our  house  that  belongs  to  mother,  and  she  thinks 
everything  of  it.  I  can't  see  anything  wonderful  about 
it.  All  it  can  do  is  to  cry,  and  pull  hair,  and  kick.  It 
hasn't  half  the  sense  of  my  dog,  and  can't  even  chase  a 
cat.  Mother  and  Sue  wouldn't  have  a  dog  in  the  house, 
but  they  are  always  going  on  about  the  baby,  and  say- 
ing, "  Ain't  it  perfectly  sweet?" 

The  worst  thing  about  a  baby  is,  that  you're  expected 
to  take  care  of  him,  and  then  you  get  scolded  afterward. 
Folks  say,  "  Here,  Jimmy,  just  hold  the  baby  a  minute, 
there's  a  good  boy  ;"  and  then,  as  soon  as  you  have  got 
it,  they  say,  "  Don't  do  that !  Just  look  at  him !  That 
boy  will  kill  the  child  !  Hold  it  up  straight,  you  good- 
for-nothing  little  wretch  !"  It's  pretty  hard  to  do  your 
best,  and  then  be  scolded  for  it ;  but  that  is  the  way 
boys  are  treated.  Perhaps  after  I'm  dead,  folks  will 
wish  they  had  done  differently. 

Last  Saturday,  mother  and  Sue  went  out  to  make  calls, 
and  told  me  to  stay  at  home  and  take  care  of  the  baby. 
There  was  a  base-ball  match,  but  what  did  they  care  foi 
that  ?  They  didn't  want  to  go  to  it,  and  so  it  made  no 
difference  whether  I  went  to  it  or  not.  They  said  they 
would  be  gone  only  a  little  while,  and  if  the  baby  waked 
vp,  I  was  to  play  with  it,  and  keep  it  from  crying,  and 
'■'  be  sure  and  not  let  it  swallow  any  pins."  Of  course,  I 
had  to  do  it.  The  baby  was  sound  asleep  when  they 
jwent  out ;  so  I  left  it  just  a  few  minutes,  while  I  went  to 
see  if  there  was  any  pie  in  tlie  pantry.  If  I  was  a 
■voman,  I  wouldn't  be  so  dreadfully  suspicious  as  to  keep 
werjthing  locked  up.  When  I  got  back  upstairs  agaii^ 


sow    JIMMY    TENDED   THE   BABY.  173 

the  baby  was  awake,  and  was  howling  like  lie  was  full 
of  pins.  So  I  gave  him  the  firet  thing  that  came  handy, 
to  keep  him  quiet.  It  happened  to  be  a  bottle  of  French 
polish,  with  a  sponge  on  the  end  of  a  wire,  that  Sue 
uses  to  black  her  boots,  because  girls  are  too  lazy  to  use 
the  regular  brush.  The  baby  stopped  crying  as  soon  as 
I  gave  him  the  bottle,  and  I  sat  down  to  read  a  paper. 
The  next  time  I  looked  at  him,  he'd  got  out  the  sponge, 
and  about  half  of  his  face  was  jet  black.  This  was  a 
nice  fix,  for  I  knew  nothing  could  get  the  black  off  his 
face,  and  when  mother  came  she  would  say  the  baby 
was  spoiled,  and  I  had  done  it.  Now  I  think  an  all 
black  baby  is  ever  so  much  more  stylish  than  an  all 
Khite  baby,  and  when  I  saw  that  the  baby  was  part 
black,  I  made  up  mind  that  if  I  blacked  it  all  over  it 
would  be  worth  more  than  it  ever  had  been,  and  per- 
iaps  mother  would  be  ever  so  much  pleased.  So  I  hur- 
ried up,  and  gave  it  a  good  coat  of  black. 

You  should  have  seen  how  that  baby  shined !  The 
polish  dried  as  soon  as  it  was  put  on,  and  I  had  just 
time  to  get  baby  dressed  again,  when  mother  and  Sue 
came  in.  I  wouldn't  lower  myself  to  repeat  their  un- 
kind language.  When  you've  been  called  a  murdering 
little  villain,  and  an  unnatural  son,  it  will  rankle  in 
your  heart  for  ages.  After  what  they  had  said  to  me,  I 
didn't  even  seem  to  mind  father,  but  went  up  stairs  with 
him  almost  as  if  I  was  going  to  church,  or  something  that 
didn't  hurt  much.  The  baby  is  beautiful  and  shiny, 
though  the  doctors  say  it  will  wear  off  in  a  few  yeai-s.  No- 
body shows  any  gratitude  for  all  the  trouble  I  took,  and  I 
can  tell  you  it  isn't  easy  to  bla{;k  a  baby  without  getting 
it  into  hi.s  eyes  and  hair.  I  sometimes  think  it  is  hardly 
worth  while  to  live  in  this  cold  and  unfeeling  world. 


174  THE   THREE   I.OVEB& 

THE  THREE  LOVERS. 


HERE'S  a  precept,   young  man,  you  should  follow 
with  care ; 
If  you're  courting  a  girl,  court  her  honest  and  square, 
Mr.  'Liakim  Smith  was  a  hard-fisted  farmer. 

Of  moderate  wealth, 

And  im moderate  health, 
Who  fifty  odd  years,  in  a  stub-and-twist  armor 

Of  callus  and  tan, 

Had  fought  like  a  man 
His  own  dogged  progress,  through  trials  and  cares, 
And  log-heaps  and  brush-heaps  and  wild-cats  and  bears, 
And  agues  and  fevers  and  thistles  and  briers. 
Poor  kinsmen,  rich  foemen,  false  saints,  and  true  liars ; 
Who  oft,  like  the  "  man  in  our  town,"  overwise, 
Through  the  brambles  of  error  had  scratched  out  his  eyes, 
And  when  the  unwelcome  result  he  had  seen, 

Had  altered  his  notion, 

Reversing  the  motion, 
And  scratched  them  both  in  again,  perfect  and  clean ; 
Who  had  weathered  some  storms,  as  a  sailor  might  say. 
And  tacked  to  the  left,  and  the  right  of  his  way, 
Till  he    found  himself   anchored,   ])afit   tempests   and 

breaker's. 
Upon  a  good  farm  of  a  hundred  odd  acres. 

As  for  -Liakim's  wife,  in  four  words  may  be  told 

Her  whole  standing  in  life  : 

She  was  'Liakim's  wife. 
Whereas  she'd  been  young,  she  was  not  growing  old, 
But  did,  she  considered,  as  well  as  one  could, 
When  he  looked  on  her  hard  work,  and  saw  'twas  good. 


THE   THREE   LOVERS.  X7h 

The  family  record  sho-sved  only  a  daughter ; 
But  she  had  a  face, 
As  if  each  fabled  Grace 
In  a  burst  of  delight  to  her  bosoiu  had  caught,  her, 
Or  as  if  all  the  flowers  in  each  Smith  generation 
Had  blossomed  at  last  in  one  grand  culmination. 
Style  lingered  unconscious  in  all  of  her  dress  ; 
She'd  starlight  for  glances  and  sunbeams  for  tresses, 
Wherever  she  went,  with  her  right  roynl  tread. 
Each  youth,  when  he'd  passed  her  a   ])it,  turned  hi* 

head; 
And  so  one  might  say,  though  the  figure  be  strained, 
She  had  turned  half  the  heads  that  the  township  con 

tained. 

Now  Bess  had  a  lover — a  monstrous  young  hulk ; 

A  farmer  by  trade — 

Strong,  sturdy,  and  staid  ; 
A  man  of  good  parts — if  you  counted  by  bulk  ; 
A  man  of  great  weight — by  the  scales  ;  aud,  indeed, 
A  man  of  some  depth — as  was  shown  by  his  feed. 
His  face  was  a  fat  exclamation  of  wonder  ; 
His  voice  was  not  quite  unsuggestive  of  thunder ; 
His  laugh  wo>s  a  cross  'twixt  a  yell  and  a  chuckle ; 

He'd  a  number  one  foot. 

And  a  number  ten  boot. 
And  a  knock-down  reserved  in  each  separate  knuckl*. 
He'd  a  heart  mad  in  love  with  tlie  girl  of  his  choice 
"Who  made  him  alternately  mope  and  rejoice, 
By  dealing  him  one  day  discouraging  messes, 
And  soothing  him  next  day  with  smiles  aud  carejwee. 

Now  B'ji?  had  a  lover  who  hoped  her  to  W(id — 
A  rising  youug  lawyer — more  rising  than  read  ; 


176  THE   THREE   LOVERS. 

Whose  theories  all  were  quite  startling ;  and  who, 
Like  many  a  chap 
In  these  days  of  strange  hap, 

Was  living  on  what  he  expected  to  do  ; 

While  his  landlady  thought  'twould  have  been  rath4f 
neat 

Could  he  only  have  learned. 
Till  some  practice  was  earned, 

To  subsist  upon  what  he  expected  to  eat. 

He  was  bodily  small,  howe'er  mentally  great. 

And  suggestively  less  than  a  hundred  in  weight. 

Now  Bess  had  a  lover — young  Patrick  ;  a  sinner, 

And  lad  of  all  work, 

From  the  suburbs  of  Cork, 
Who  worked  for  her  father,  and  thought  he  could  wia 

her. 
And   if   Jacob    could    faithful    serve    fourteen  yeaM 
through, 

And  still  thrive  and  rejoice, 

For  the  girl  of  his  choice, 
He  thought  he  could  play  the  same  game  one  or  two. 

Now  'Liakim  Smith  had  a  theory  hid, 

And  by  egotism  fed. 

Somewhere  up  in  his  head, 
That  a  dutiful  daughter  should  always  as  bid 
Grow  old  in  the  service  of  him  who  begot  her, 

Imbibe  his  beliefs, 

Have  a  care  for  his  griefs. 
And  faithfully  bring  him  his  cider  and  water. 
Bo,  as  might  be  expected,  he  turned  up  his  nose, 
Also  a  cold  shoulder,  to  Bessie's  two  beaux, 


THE   THREE   LOVERg.  175 

And  finally  turned  them  away  from  his  door. 

Forbidding  them  ever  to  enter  it  more  ; 

And  detailed  young  Patrick  as  kind  of  a  guard, 

With  orders  to  keep  them  both  out  of  the  yard. 

60  Pat  took  his  task,  with  a  treacherous  smile. 
And  bullied  the  small  one, 
And  dodged  the  big  tall  one, 

And  slyly  made  love  to  Miss  Bess  all  the  while. 

But  one  evening,  when  'Liakim  and  wife  crowned  theii 
labors 

With  praise  and  entreating 

At  the  village  prayer-meeting. 
And  Patrick  had  stepped  for  a  while  to  some  neighbors',. 
The  lawyer  had  come,  in  the  trimmest  of  dress. 

And,  dapper  and  slim, 

And  small,  e'en  for  him, 
Was  holding  a  session  of  court  with  Miss  Bess. 
And  Bess,  sly  love  athlete,  was  suited  first  rate 
At  a  flirtation-mill  with  this  legal  light-weight ; 
And  was  listening  to  him,  as  minutes  spun  on. 

Of  pleas  he  could  make. 

And  of  fees  he  would  take, 
And  of  suits  that  he  should,  in  future  have  won  ; 
When  just  as  the  cold,  heartless  clock  counted  eight, 
Miss  Bessie's  quick  ear  caught  a  step  at  the  gate. 
"'Tis  mother !"  she  cried  :  "  Oh,  go  quick,  I  implore ! 
But  father'll  drive  round  and  come  in  the  back  door ! 
You  cannot  escape  them,  however  you  turn  I 
60  hide  for  awhile — let  me  see — in  this  churn  !" 

The  churn  was  quite  large  enough  for  him  to  turn  in- 
Expanded  out  so, 
By  machinery  to  go, 

Twould  have  done  for  a  dairy-man  Cyclops  to  chum  in. 


ITS  THE   THREE   LOYEPS, 

Twas  fixed  for  attaching  a  pitman  or  lever. 
To  go  by  horse- power — a  notion  quite  clever,, 
Invented  and  built  by  the  Irishman,  Pat, 
Who  pleased  Mrs.  'Liakim  hugely  by  that. 

The  laAvyer  went  into  the  case  with  much  ease. 
And  hugged  the  belief 
That  the  cause  would  be  brief, 

And  settled  himself  down  with  hardly  a  squeeze. 

And  Bess  said,  "  Keep  still,  for  there's  plenty  of  roOBO," 

And  shut  down  the  cover,  and  left  him  in  gloom. 

But  scarcely  were  matters  left  decently  so, 
In  walked — not  her  mother. 
But — worry  and  bother! — • 
The  mammoth  young  farmer,  whose  first  name  was  Jo6 
And  he  gleefully  sung,  in  a  heavy  bass  tone 
Which  came  in  one  note 
From  the  depths  of  his  throat, 
*  I'm  glad  I  have  come,  since  I've  found  you  alone. 
Let's  sit  here  awhile,  by  this  kerosene  light. 
An'  spark  it  awhile  now  wdth  all  of  our  might.'' 
And  Bessie  was  willing  ;  and  so  they  sat  down. 
The  maiden  so  fair  and  the  farmer  so  brown. 
They  talked  of  things  great,  and  they  talked  of  things 
small. 

Which  none  could  condemn. 
And  which  may  have  pleased  themj. 
But  which  did  not  interest  the  lawyer  at  all ; 
And  Bessie  seemed  giving  but  little  concern 
To  the  feelings  of  him  she  had  shut  in  the  chuni, 

Till  Bessie  just  artlessly  mentioned  the  man, 
And  Joe  with  a  will  to  abuse  him  began. 


rSE  THREK   LOVERS-  aTS 

A.ud  called  him  full  many  an  ignoble  name, 

AiDpertaining  to  "  sci-ubbj," 

And  "  shorty,'*  and  "  stubby/* 
And  other  descriptions  not  wide  of  the  same ; 
And  Bessie  said  naught  in  the  lawyer's  behalf. 
But  seconded  Joe,  now  and  then,  with  a  laugh  ; 
And  the  lawyer  said  nothing,  but  winked  at  his  fat©, 

And,  somewhat  abashed. 

And  decidedly  dashed, 
Accepted  Joe's  motions  sans  vote  or  debate. 
And  several  times  he,  with  policy  stern, 
Repressed  a  desire  to  break  out  of  the  churn, 
Well  knowing  he  thus  raiglit  get  savagely  used 

And  if  not  quite  eaten. 

Would  likely  be  beaten, 
And  probably  injured  as  well  as  abused. 
But  now  came  another  quick  step  at  the  door. 
And  Bessie  was  fearful,  the  same  as  before ; 
And  tumbling  Joe  over  a  couple  of  chairs, 

With  a  general  sound 

Of  thunder  all  'round, 
She  hurried  him  up  a  short  pair  of  back  stairs; 
And  clof'^e  in  the  garret  condemned  him  to  wait 
Till  orders  from  her,  be  it  early  or  late. 
Then  tripping  her  way  down  the  stair-case,  she  sai^Ji, 
**  I'll  smuggle  them  off  when  the  folks  get  to  bed," 

It  was  not  her  parents  ;  'twas  crafty  young  Pat, 
Returned  from  his  visit ;  and  straightway  he  sat 
Beside  hor,  remarking,  The  chairs  were  in  place. 
Bo  he  would  sit  near  her,  and  vieAV  her  sweet  face. 
Ro  gayly  they  talked,  as  the  minutes  fast  flew, 
DJ-scuseing  such  matters  as  ])oth  of  them  know. 


Ibtl  THE  THKKE    LOVERS. 

Wliil«  often  Miss  Bessie's  sweet  laugh  answerad  bfte&L 

For  Pat,  be  it  known, 

Had  some  wit  of  his  own. 
And  in  irony  elibrts  was  sharp  as  a  tack. 
And  finally  Bessie  his  dancing  tongue  led. 

By  a  sly,  dextrous  turn, 

To  the  raan  in  the  churn, 
And  the  farmer  who  eagerly  listened  o'erhead ; 
Whereat  the  young  Irishman  volubly  gave 

A  short  dissertation, 

Whose  main  information 
Was  that  one  was  a  fool  and  the  other  a  &nave. 

Slim  chance  there  must  be  for  the  world  e'er  to  leam 
How  pleasant  this  was  to  the  man  in  the  churn ; 
Though,  to  borrow  a  figure  lent  by  his  position, 
He  was  doubtless  in  somewhat  a  worked-up  condition. 
It  may  ne'er  be  sung,  and  it  may  ne'er  be  said, 
How  well  it  was  liked  by  the  giant  o'erhead. 
He  lay  on  a  joist — for  there  wasn't  any  floor — 

And  the  joists  were  so  few, 

And  so  far  apai't  too, 
He  could  not,  in  comfort,  preempt  any  more ; 
And   he   nearly  had   knocked   through  the  plastering 

quite. 
And  challenged  young  Pat  to  a  fair  and  square  fight ; 
But  he  dared  not  do  elsewise  tlian  Bessie  had  said, 
For  fear,  as  a  lover,  he  might  lose  his  head. 

But  now  from  the  meeting  the  old  folks  returned, 
And  sat  by  the  stove  as  the  fire  brightly  burned  ; 
And  Patrick  came  in  from  the  care  of  the  team  ; 
And  since  in  the  house  there  was  overmuch  cream^ 


THE   THRBE   LOVERS.  181 

He  thought  that  the  hoi-ses  their  supper  might  earn. 

And  leave  him  full  way 

To  plow  early  next  day, 
By  working  that  night  for  awhile  at  the  chum. 

The  old  folks  consented  ;  and  Patrick  went  out, 
Half  chuckling,  for  he  had  a  shrewd  Irish  doubt, 
From  various  slight  sounds  he  had  chanced  to  disoem. 
That  Bess  had  a  fellow  shut  up  in  the  churn. 

The  lawyer,  meanwhile,  in  his  hiding-place  cooped, 
Low  grunted  and  hitched  and  contorted  and  stooped. 
But  hung  to  the  place  like  a  man  in  a  dream  ; 
And  when  the  young  Irishman  went  for  the  team, 
To  stay  or  to  fly,  he  could  hardly  tell  which  ; 

But  hoping  to  get 

Neatly  out  of  it  yet, 
He  concluded  to  hang  to  the  very  last  hitch. 

The  churn  was  one  side  of  the  house,  recollect, 
So  rods  with  the  horse-power  outside  could  connect  ; 
And  Bess  stood  so  near  that  she  took  the  lamp's  gleam  in 
While  her  mother  was  cheerfully  pouring  the  cream  in  ; 
Who,  being  near-sighted,  and  minding  her  cup, 
Had  no  notion  of  what  she  was  covering  up  ; 
But  the  lawyer,  meanwhile,  had  he  dared  to  have  spoke. 
Would  have  owned  that  he  saw  the  whole  cream  of  the 
joke. 

But  just  as  the  voice  of  young  Patrick  came  strong 
And  clear  tlirough  the  window,  "  All  ready  !  go  'long  J** 
And  just  as  the  dasher  its  motion  began, 

Stirred  up  by  its  knocks, 

Like  a  Jack-in-the-box 
He  jumiJed  fnjm  his  damp,  dripping  priaou — aud  nui. 


182  THE   THREE   L0VEK8. 

And  made  a  frog-leap  o'er  the  stove  and  a  cliair. 
With  some  crisp  Bib)e  Mords  not  intended  as  prayer. 

All  over  the  kitchen  ho  i-ampaged  and  tore, 
And  ran  against  everything  there  but  the  door ; 
Tipped  over  old  'Liakim  flat  on  his  back, 
And  left  a  long  trail  of  rich  cream  on  his  track. 
"  Ou !  ou  !  'tis  a  ghost !"  quavered  'Liakim's  wife  ; 
"  A  ghost,  if  I  ever  saw  one  in  my  life  !" 
"  The  Devil !"  roared  'Liakim,  rubbing  his  shin. 
"  No  !  no  !"  shouted  Patrick,  who  just  then  came  in : 
"  It's  only  a  lawyer  ;  the  devil  ne'er  runs — 

To  bring  on  him  a  laugh — 

In  the  shape  of  a  calf; 
It  isn't  the  devil ;  it's  one  of  his  sons  ! 
If  so  that  the  spalpeen  had  words  he  could  utther, 
He'd  swear  he  loved  Bessie,  an'  loved  no  one  hutther '' 

Now  Joe  lay  fall  length  on  the  scantling  o'erhead, 

And  tried  to  make  out 

What  it  all  was  about, 
By  list'ning  to  all  that  was  done  and  was  said  ; 
But  somehow  his  balance  became  uncontrolled, 
And  he  on  the  plastering  heavily  rolled. 
It  yielded  instanter,  came  down  with  a  crash, 
And  fell  on  the  heads  of  the  folks  with  a  smash. 
And  there  his  plump  limbs  through  the  orifice  swung. 
And  he  caught  by  the  arms  and  disgracefully  hung. 
His  ponderous  body,  so  clumsy  and  thick. 
Wedged  into  that  posture  as  tight  as  a  brick. 
And  'Liakim  Smith,  by  amazement  made  dumb 

At  those  legs  in  the  air 

Hanging  motionless  there, 
Concluded  that  this  time  the  devil  had  come ; 


HOW   HIS   GARMENTS   GOT   TURNED.  183 

And  seiziBg  a  chair,  he  belabored  them  well, 
While   the   head   pronounced   words  that   no    piiutei 
would  spell. 

And  there  let  us  leave  them,  'mid  outcry  and  clatter, 
To  come  to  their  wits,  and  then  settle  the  matter  • 
And  take  for  the  moral  this  inference  fair  : 
If  you're  courting  a  girl,  court  her  honest  and  square. 


HOW  HIS  GARMENTS  GOT  TURNED. 


WHEN  the  golden  sunlight  dances  on  the  bosom  of 
the  stream. 

And  the  silver  lilies,  starlike,  'mong  the  olive  sedges 
gleam, 

When  the  bullfrog  seeks  the  cover  of  the  grasses  tall 
and  rank, 

And  the  pickerel  at  noonday  seeks  the  shadow  of  th« 
bank, 

Then  the  small  boy  goes  in  swimming  in  the  costume  of 
the  mode 

That  was  worn  by  fiir  Godiva,  when  through  Coventry- 
she  rode. 

He  splashes  in  the  limpid  stream  with  many  a  gleeful 

shout. 
And  to  the  bank  returning  puts  his  shirt  on  inside  out ; 
And  when  his  mother  (questions  him,  ''  How  came  that 

garment  so  ?" 
He  looks  upon  it  with  surprise,  and  says  he  doesn't  know ; 
When  further  pressed  to  give  the  cause,  this  reason  lie 

employs  : 
"  I  must  have  turned  a  somersault  when  playing  with 

the  boys." 


Baterfatmn^nt  noofrs  for  Tonng  PeopJt 

Young  Folks*  Di&.logtie*/' 

By  Chab.rle^  C.  Shoemaker 

For  Young  People  of  Fifteen  Years 
Dialogues  rendered  by  youug  people  are  always  enjoyable,  being 
relished  by  the  parents  and  friends  as  well  as  by  the  youthfuJ 
performers  themselves.  Thisbookof  dialogues,  wliolesome  in  tone, 
yet  sparliliug  with  wit  and  full  of  unexpected  and  novel  situations, 
supplies  just  the  material  needed.  Liberal  provision  has  been 
made  for  anniversary  occasions,  and  for  church,  school,  and  home 
entertainments.  All  the  matter  has  been  written  especially  for 
this  work. 

How  to  Celebrate  Thanksgiving  and 
Christmas 

By  Alice  M.  Kellogg 

For  Children  from  Five  to  Fifteen  Years 
The  real  jolly,  kindly  spirit  of  the  great  holidays  ia  in  every 
page  of  this  book.  For  Thanksgiving  there  are  complete  programs 
consisting  of  recitations,  songs,  etc.  "What  the  Months  Bring/' 
for  twelve  girls;  "Thanksgiving  in tlie  Pastand  Present,"— a  play 
with  tableaux.  For  Christmas  there  are  ten  songs,  fifteen  recita- 
tions, Christmas  Tree  Drill,  three  Christmas  plays,  three  exercises. 
For  Autumn  there  are  songs,  recitations  and  plays.  Carleton, 
Whittier,  Hood,  Holland,  Barbauld,  Longfellow,  and  many  other 
poets  are  represented. 

Christmas  Entertainments 

By  Alice  M.  Kellogg 

For  Children  from  Five  to  Fifteen  Years 
In  this  volume,  the  aim  has  been  to  depart  from  the  familiar  cut 
and  dried  holiday  material,  and  to  supply  something  new  and 
novel  for  Christmas  occasions.  Here  are  gathered  together  carols, 
new  and  quaint;  plays,  tableaux,  and  charades.  Besides  these 
there  are  many  plans  for  Christmas  parties,  novel,  and  truly  us 
characteristic  of  the  season  as  the  old  Yule  Tide  of  "  merry  Kng- 
land." 

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Paper  40  Cents.     Goth  ii.OO. 

Comic  D!alo^u©.r 

By  Joh&  R.  Da^iois 
tMs  is  the  something  "real  funny,"  which  every  boy  and  girl 
jjteferB  but  there  is  nothing  coarse  in  it.  It  is  suitable  for  school  or 
church  use  any\There.  The  dialogues  are  arranged  for  from  two  to  a 
dozen  or  moi  e  children.  A  few,  like  "  Vilikeiis  "  and  "  The  Head* 
less  Horseman,"  employ  music.  "  Our  Lysander"  is  a  real  littla 
play,  teome  of  the  dialogues  are:  Innocents  Abroad,  Artist's  Dream, 
Aunt  Diuah  and  Columbus,  Taking  the  Cenaus,  Strctly  Coniiden« 
Caal,  etc. 


Htamoroizs  Oialo^ues  and  Dramas 

By  Ch&rle./-  C.  Shoem&.ker 

If  there  is  anything  more  enjoyable  than  a  humorous  reading  or 
iBoitation  it  is  a  keen,  pointed,  humorous  dialogue.  The  compiler, 
•.?ith  the  largest  resources  and  widest  experience  in  literature  fojr 
entertainment  purposes,  has  produced  one  of  the  rarest,  brightest, 
jolliest  books  of  mirth-provoking  dialogues  ever  published.  Much 
of  the  matter  was  prepared  especially  for  this  work.  The  dialogues 
are  adapted  to  old  and  young  of  both  sexes,  and  while  often  keenly 
wtty,  are  wholly  free  from  coarseness  and  vulgarity. 


Classic  Dialogues  and  Di»»mas 

By  Mtw.  J.  W.  Shoem&.ker 

This  unique  work  will  prove  not  only  interesting  and  protitaLla 
wr  purposes  of  public  and  social  entertainment,  but  also  instruct. 
?.ve  and  valuable  for  private  reading  and  study.  The  book  com- 
prises popular  scenes  judiciously  selected  from  the  plays  of  Shakes- 
peare, Sheridan,  Bulwer,  Schiller,  and  other  dramatists,  and  each 
dialogue  is  so  arranged  as  to  be  complete  in  itself.  Many  of  the 
exercises  may  be  given  as  readiaigs  or  recitals,  and  will  prove 
ftcceptable  to  audiences  of  the  highest  culture  and  refinement. 


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Paper  40  CentB.     Cloth  $1.00. 

Sterling  Dia^logties 

By  Williavtn  M.  Clark 

The  dialogues  comprising  this  volume  have  been  ehosen  from  a 
""rge  store  of  material.  The  coutributious  are  fi-om  the  pens  of 
the  uicst  gifted  writers  in  this  field  of  literature,  and  the  topics  are 
eo  varied  and  comprehensive  that  they  are  readily  adapted  to  the 
CeeiJs  of  Schoois,  Academies,  and  Literary  Societies.  They  are 
especially  suited  for  Social  Gatherings  and  Home  Amusement,  &f 
the  staging  required  is  simple  and  easily  obtained. 


Model  Dialogues 

By  Wiilia^m  M.  Clark 

The  dialogues  comprising  this  collection  have  been  contributed 
by  over  thirty  of  America's  best  writers  in  this  field  of  literature. 
They  represent  every  variety  of  sentiment  and  emotion,  from  the 
extremely  humorous  to  the  pathetic.  Every  dialogue  is  full  of  life 
and  action  ;  the  subjects  are  well  chosen,  and  are  so  varied  as  to 
suit  nil  grades  of  performers.  The  book  is  especially  adapted  for 
School  Exhibitions,  Literary  Societies,  and  Sunday-school  aud 
Social  Gatherings. 


By  Rev.  Alexander  C!a>.rk,  A.  M. 

TSQe  author's  name  is  a  guaranty  of  the  excellence  of  tuis  book. 
His  long  experience  as  a  lecturer  before  Teachers'  Institutes,  and 
his  close  study  of  the  teachers'  needs,  hia  lofty  ideals  of  education 
and  of  life,  his  refinement  of  taste,  diversity  of  attainment,  anJ 
versatility  of  expression,  all  combine  to  qualify  him  in  an  eminent 
degree  for  the  preparation  of  such  o  volume.  For  both  teacher 
and  entertainer  this  book  has  special  points  of  merit  as  the  dia- 
logues are  interesting  as  well  as  instructive. 

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Paper  40  Cents.     Cloth  $1.00. 

Schoolday  Dialogues 

By  Rev.  Alexander  Clark,  A.  M. 

i'bis  book  of  dialogues,  prepared  for  use  in  School  ihiter* 
tainments,  fiamishes  great  diversity  of  sentiment  and  diction. 
Although  for  the  most  part  composed  of  serious  or  pathetic  subject- 
matter,  there  will  he  found  many  humorous  dialogues  and  much 
good  material  for  the  little  folks,  as  well  as  for  the  older  ones. 
The  staging  and  costuming  are  of  the  simplest  character,  and  are 
«o  fully  described  as  to  make  the  task  of  preparation  quite  easy, 
even  for  the  novice. 


Popular  Dialogues 

By  Phine&s  Garrett 

The  author's  large  experience  in  the  Entertainment  and  Amuse- 
ment field  has  qualified  him  for  the  preparation  ot  a  book  of 
unusual  merit.  No  work  of  this  kind  more  fully  meets  the  popu- 
lar demand  for  interesting  and  refined  entertainment.  In  this 
collection  will  be  found  dialogues  to  suit  every  occasion,  either  lor 
public  entertainment  or  for  a  social  evening  at  home.  Humor  and 
pathos  are  pleasantly  blended,  and  provision  is  made  for  the 
wantis  of  the  young  and  the  old,  the  grave  and  the  gay.,  the  expe* 
rienced  and  the  inexperienced. 


£xcelsior  Dialogues 

By  Phine&s  Gzu'rett 

This  book  is  composed  of  original  dialogues  and  colloquies 
designed  for  students  in  Schools  and  Academies,  and  prepared 
expressly  for  this  work  by  a  corps  of  professional  teachers  and 
writers.  Comedy  and  tragedy  are  provided  in  due  proportion, 
and  the  moral  tone  of  the  work  is  of  the  highest  order.  Teachers 
will  here  find  just  the  material  for  which  they  have  been  search- 
ing, something  with  plot  enough  to  hold  the  attention  and  that 
will  nonimand  the  best  efforts  of  the  older  pupils. 

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EnteitaJumetit  Bocks  lor  Foung  People 
Paper  40  Cents.     Cloth  $1.00. 

Fancy  Drills  and  Marches* 

By  Alice  M.  Kello^^ 

Children  enjoy  drills,  and  this  is  the  most  successful  drill  hook 
ever  published.  It  has  more  than  fifty  new  ideas — drills,  marches, 
motion  songs  and  action  pieces.  Among  them  are  a  Sifter  Drill, 
Ribbon  March  with  Grouping  and  Posing,  Pink  Rose  Drill,  Christ- 
mas Tree  Drill,  Delsarte  Children,  Zouave  Drill,  "Wreath  Drill 
and  March,  Glove  Drill,  Tambourine  Drill,  March  of  the  Red, 
"White  and  Blue.  Teachers  will  be  especially  pleased  with  the 
care  given  to  the  exercises  for  the  smaller  children.  All  of  the 
drills  are  fully  illustrated. 


Idedwl  Drills 

By  Ma.rguerite  W.  Morton 

This  book  contains  a  collection  of  entirely  new  and  original 
drills,  into  which  are  introduced  many  unique  and  effective 
features.  The  fullest  descriptions  are  given  for  the  successful  pro- 
duction of  the  drills,  and  to  this  end  nearly  100  diagrams  have 
been  inserted  showing  the  different  movements.  Everything  is 
made  so  clear  that  anyone  can  use  the  drills  without  the  slightest 
difficulty.  Among  the  more  popular  and  pleasing  drills  are  :  The 
Brownie,  Taper,  Maypole,  Rainbow,  Dumb-bell,  Butterfly,  Sword, 
Flower.  Ring,  Scarf.  Flag,  and  Swing  Song  and  Drill. 


Eureka  Entertainments 

The  title  of  this  volume  expresses  in  a  nutshell  the  character  of 
its  contents.  The  weary  searcher  after  material  for  any  kind  of 
entertainment  will,  upon  examination  of  this  book,  at  once 
exclaim,  "I  have  found  it."  Here  is  just  what  is  wanted  for  use 
in  day-school,  Sunday-school,  at  church  socials,  teas,  and  other 
festivals,  for  parlor  or  fireside  amusement,  in  fact,  for  all  kinds  of 
school  or  home,  public  or  private  entertainments.  The  work  is 
characte-v"'>J.by  freshness  and  originality  throughout. 


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MB-icstaismeal  Sooks  foe  I'oang  People 
Paper  40  Cents.     Cloth  $1.6©. 

Special  Day  Exerciser 

By  Amos  M.  Kellogg 

Almost  every  week  in  the  school  year  has  its  birthday  of  a 
national  hero  or  a  great  writer.  Washington,  Michael  Augelo, 
Shakespeare,  Longfellow,  Holmes,  Browning  and  Emerson  are 
among  those  the  children  learn  to  know  from  this  book.  The  holl. 
days,  Easter,  Christmas,  Thanksgiving,  Memorial  Day  are  not  for. 
gotten  ;  and  in  between  are  many  happy  suggestions  for  tree  plan* 
ing,  for  bird  and  flower  lessons,, and  debates. 


Christmas  Selections 

By  Rosamond  Livingstone  McNzik.ught 

For  Readings  and  Recitations 
Sunday  schools,  day  schools,  the  home  circle,  all  demand  mjt 
terial  for  Christmas  entertainments,  and  all  want  something  new 
and  appropriate.  This  book  contains  just  what  is  wanted.  Every 
piece  is  absolutely  new,  not  a  single  one  having  previously  been 
published  in  any  book.  It  contains  recitations,  in  prose  and 
poetry,  for  every  conceivable  kind  of  public  or  private  entertain* 
ment  at  Christmas  time. 


Holiday  Selections 

By  Sssa  Sigourney  Rice 
For  Readings  and  Recitations 
The  selections  in  this  volume  are  adapted  to  all  tha  different 
holidays  of  the  year  and  are  classified  accordingly.  Fully  ha  if  of 
the  pieces  are  for  Christmas,  but  ample  proA-ision  is  also  made  for 
New  Year's,  St.  Valentine's  Day,  Washington's  Birthday,  Easter, 
Arbor  Day,  Decoration  Day,  Fourth  of  July,  and  Thanksgiving. 
The  pieces  are  unusually  bright,  and  the  variety  under  each  holi- 
day will  aiiord  the  fullest  opportunity  for  a  satisfactory  choice; 
the  older  students  and  the  little  ones  alike  will  find  something 
suited  to  theii  different  degrees  of  ability. 


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Holiday  Entertainments 

By  Ch&jles  C.  Shoemaker 

Absolutely  new  and  original.  There  are  few  things  more  pop«» 
lar  during  the  holiday  season  than  Entertainments  and  Exhibi- 
tions, and  there  is  scarcely  anything  more  difficult  to  procure  than 
new  and  meritorious  material  appropriate  for  such  occasions. 
This  book  is  made  up  of  short  dramas,  dialogues,  tableaux, 
recitations,  etc.,  introducing  many  novel  features  that  give  lue 
spice  and  sparkle  so  desirable  for  such  occasions.  It  is  adapted  to 
the  full  round  of  holidays,  containing  features  especially  prepared 
for  Christmas,  New  Year's,  "Washington's  Birthday,  Easter,  i)eco» 
ration  Day,  Fourth  of  July,  and  Thanksgiving. 

Spring  and  Summer  School 

Celebrations 

By  Alice  M.  Kellogg 
This  book  shows  how  to  capture  "all  outdoors"  for  the  school 
room.  Every  warm  weather  holiday,  including  Jlay  Day, 
Memorial  Day,  Closing  D?,y,  is  represented;  for  each  the  book 
oflFers  from  ten  to  thirty  new  suggestions.  Tableaux,  pantomimes, 
recitations,  marches,  drills,  songs  and  special  programs,  provide 
exactly  the  right  kind  of  material  for  Spring  exercises  of  any  sort. 
The  drills  and  action  pieces  are  fully  illustrated.  Everything  in 
the  book  has  been  esoecially  edited  and  arranged  for  it. 

Select  Speeches  for  Declamation 

By  John  H.  Bechtel 

This  book  contains  a  large  number  of  short  prose  pieces 
chosen  from  the  leading  writers  and  speakers  of  all  ages  and 
nations,  and  admirably  adapted  for  use  by  college  men.  Only  the 
very  best,  from  a  large  store  of  choice  material,  was  selected  for 
this  work.  The  names  of  Demosthenes,  Livy,  Kossuth,  Bona- 
parte, Chatham,  Burke,  Macaulay,  Hugo,  Gladstone,  Washington, 
Jeiferson,  Gariitdd,  Harrison,  Webster,  f2verelt,  Phillips,  Curtis, 
Blaine,  Beeclur,  Grady,  Cleveland,  McKinley,  and  Depew  may 
serve  to  sueeest  the  standard  o*  <Jie  selections. 

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jSstertainment  Books  for  ^onng  Peopta 
Paper  40  Cents.     Qoth  fl.OO. 

Temperance  Selections 

By  John  H.  Bechtel 

For  Readings  and  Recitations 
These  selections  have  been  taken  from  the  utterances  of  pulpit 
orators,  from  the  speeches  of  political  leaders,  and  from  the  pens 
of  gifted  poets.  They  depict  the  life  of  the  dnmkard,  point  out 
the  first  beginnings  of  vice,  and  illustrate  the  growth  of  the  habit 
as  one  cup  after  another  is  sipped  amid  the  pleasures  and  gayeties 
of  social  life.  This  volume  appeals  to  human  intelligence,  and 
epeaks  words  of  truth  and  wisdom  that  cannot  be  gainsaid. 

Sunday-School  Selections 

By  John  H.  Bechtel 

For  Readings  and  Recitations 
This  volume  contains  about  150  selections  of  unusual  merit. 
Among  them  something  will  be  found  adapted  to  every  occasion 
a  jd  condition  where  a  choice  reading  or  recitation  may  be  wanted. 
Suitable  provision  has  been  made  for  the  Church  Social,  the  Sun- 
day-school Concert,  Teachers'  Gatherings,  Christian  Endeavor 
Societies,  Anniversary  occasions,  and  every  assemblage  of  a  relig- 
ious or  spiritual  character.  Besides  its  value  for  readings  and 
recitations,  the  pastor  will  find  much  in  it  to  adorn  his  sermon, 
and  the  superintendent  points  by  which  to  illustrate  the  Sunday- 
school  lesson 

Sunday-School  Entertainments 

All  new  and  original.  The  demand  for  a.  book  of  pleasing  and 
appropriate  Sunday-school  entertainments  is  here  supplied.  The 
articles  are  largely  in  the  nature  of  dialogues,  tableaux,  recita- 
tions, concert  pieces,  motion  songs,  dramatized  Bible  stories,  and 
responsive  exercises,  all  based  upon  or  illustrating  some  Biblical 
truth.  Special  care  has  been  taken  to  make  provision  for  such 
occasions  as  Christmas,  New  Year's,  Easter,  Thanksgiving,  and 
the  full  round  of  celebrations,  so  that  no  time  or  season  is  with' 
out  a  subject  •    - 

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THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


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